Smashing Through the Looking Glass
by lilmouse
Summary: WIP. AU. My version of the Marvel Universe, influenced by the comics and the XMen movies. Set after X2. Written with fondness for the genre and our beloved heroes. Kitty Pryde thinks she's having a bad day until Chaos interrupts. Chapter 16 posted.
1. Chapter 1

April 9, 2006: This is an Author's Note to explain the premise of this story. They will be much shorter after this one - no, really, lol! ;)

'Smashing Through the Looking Glass' is my own, twisted version of the Marvel Universe and the characters therein. I earn no monies by writing this and post it on FFN strictly for the hec of it. :) **The rating is 'T' for some violence, the odd swear word and "minor suggestive adult themes". There is nothing racy or explicit here.**

I have no idea if I should be submitting this to the X-Men Movie thread or the X-Men Comic thread. I'll go with the Comics for now. Perhaps someone will let me know if I should move it - though I have no clue how I'd actually _do_ such a thing, lol!

'Smashing Through' actually started off as a writing exercise in August of 2004. I've always been a fan of the X-Men comics and have boxes of them in my basement, so I began a stream-of-consciousness, first person adventure that grew and this is the first instalment. I set some random rules for myself as part of the exercise: All the chapters were originally twelve pages long and each chapter title had to be used in the context of that chapter. I've cut the first chapter roughly in half as it's very long otherwise. The other chapters might not have such a natural stopping point, but I'll deal with that bridge when I build it. ;)

I stopped writing after Chapter Nine. I have no clear recollection _why_ I stopped, as I had a lot of fun with the exercise and enjoyed the direction the story was taking. I've recently re-read the story so far and thought I'd share it.

This is officially a Work In Progress once more. :)

**Be warned: I have taken liberties.** It is set after the second X-Men movie with modifications from certain aspects of the comics. I haven't read the comics since about the mid-nineties, so that might give you a concept of which team or teams I'm likely to write about. Certain characters I also like might just not be there yet. If you aren't fond of stories that fiddle with a favourite continuity, this might not be for you. I have used a strong supporting cast of original characters as well as versions of familiar faces so some of these folks you won't know at all.

**Be Warned: This has not been Betaed. I have a super Beta for my 'Dark Angel' fiction but I'm not going to ask her to deal with this bizarre version of the X-Men as well. She might smack me. ;)**

Excelsior!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter One: Part One**

**Whatever**

August 5, 2004, 2:17 PM

The air conditioning seized about half an hour ago and already my room is a toaster oven: the joys of living on the top floor of the southwest side of the mansion. Great view, and access to a really awesome place on the roof, but in summer, it just sucks the big one.

Dr. McCoy immediately announced over the intercom that the situation was under control, and then proceeded to inform us a few minutes later that the backup generator for the mansion's CAC wasn't automatically taking over so it might be a bit longer than he previous estimated. He used more complicated words that had me eyeing my thesaurus, but that was the basic message.

I have another whopper of a headache and downed some extra-strength Tylenol in desperation about an hour ago. When it starts working, I hope I can tell the difference. Right now, I feel like I'm trapped inside a steel drum, which is being dropped repeatedly from a cliff.

_Whatever._

Great. Just freakin' great. As if concentration isn't difficult enough, I think my asthma might be kicking in, too. I breathe deeply and suppress my panic, which I know is one of the triggers. Sweat is pooling at the base of my spine as I sit in this reject chair in front of my computer - which needs more RAM, thank you very much, Professor - trying to complete my history assignment by five o'clock. If I don't, Mr. Summers just might chew me up and spit me out. I won't blame him if he does. We're not walking on eggshells but we're careful. You can tell he's under stress.

I can't think about him without thinking about _her_. God, I miss Dr. Grey. She was smart and beautiful and funny and - well, I wanted to be just like her. If I had any questions about my homework or just needed to talk, she was always there and understood. Sometimes when she looked at me, her expression seemed sad. It was fleeting but I saw it. Once, I asked her what was wrong. She told me I reminded her of someone, a friend from when she was younger: someone named Annie. I didn't have to ask to know that her friend was dead.

Dr. Grey gave me a pendant on my sixteenth birthday - a smooth chunk of amber wrapped in a silver setting with a tiny leaf trapped inside. It hangs on my dresser mirror. When I look at it, I see fire.

I see _her_.

I look away from the pendant and practice my breathing technique. My nightmares haven't left me alone. In fact, they've gotten worse. Now when I'm being chased by soldiers, the halls of Xavier's are covered in mirrors and eyes follow me as I run. Then it's so hot and I can't find the door - and I'm consumed by flames.

_Jean._

I don't know how Mr. Summers does it. The pain must be unbearable. They were soul mates. Cerebro has been working overtime, if you can say that about a computer. The Professor can't find any trace of her mind. They did a search with all kinds of technological marvels on the Blackbird but couldn't even find the body under that new lake, for crying out loud. It's as if she never existed. It sucks.

I have to focus. I wasn't going to think about her today 'cause it just makes it hard to swallow and see the screen, and if I don't get this assignment on his desk in the next two hours and forty-three minutes -

**Ping!**

Great. Just freakin' great. Someone is pinging me. The sound can join the bongo drums in my head and have a party. Why did I leave MSN on my task bar? I'd chatted earlier with Matsushima Takashi, my pen pal-now-e-mail-junkie from Japan, who is so infatuated with finally getting her own Internet connection that she's become an unstoppable force of nature. I popped on and said 'Hey' to some of the graduate students at MIT. No one was pestering me to help them with their homework and Sparky wasn't on-line so I'd gotten back to my thesis, which had sounded like such a good idea at the time: 'The Impact of Gunpowder on the Development of the Modern World'. I just liked the way it rolled trippingly off the tongue. I actually still do, but I know I can do a better job than the one I'm pulling now.

Thank you, God, for high-speed Internet connections.

While I'm at it, thank you for that typing tutorial. Oh, and my brain: my most beautiful feature. Snort.

**Pingpingping!**

Oh, for crying out loud. Who is it, anyway?

_Ugh._ I shoulda known.

I sigh and deal with the inevitable, keeping a search going on one minimized window while I continue typing some of my scrambled thoughts on another, hoping it'll read well when I'm done.

**Firecracker says: _GR8! DNT DISAPR ON ME!_ _WHER THE HELL R U?_**

**Ghost says: _Don't shout, you freak. And freakin' spell correctly, okay? I can't stand it when you do that._**

**Firecracker says: _Sorry. Better?_**

**Ghost says: _Peachy. Look, I'm kinda busy right now so unless this is real important, I'll see you at dinner._**

**Firecracker says: _Can't wait 'til dinner._**

**Ghost says: _I have to hand in an assignment to Mr. Summers by five today and I'm still typing the stupid thing._**

I glance at the search program and sigh, taking a moment to massage my temples. No point trying to dig myself any deeper. I should've started sooner. I should've done more research. Sigh. I should've done a lot of things but I've been hitting a few personal hurdles lately. God, I miss Dr. Grey. Sometimes I can see her when I'm awake, looking back at me like a ghost in the dresser mirror. I chuckle. Perhaps I'm losing my mind. A plea of insanity won't get me out of this assignment, though. I close the window, deciding to work with what I have and hoping the lecture I'm anticipating from Mr. Summers doesn't mean I miss dinner, too.

**Ping!**

I ignore the summons and finish my thought, deciding it sounds pretty good as the summary suddenly enters my head, full blown, and I have to get it out before it disappears.

**Pingpingping!**

**Ghost says: _Leave me alone!_**

**Firecracker says: _Look out your window!_**

**Ghost says: _I don't mean to be rude, Jubes, but piss off!_**

**Firecracker says: _Your loss, babe._**

I keep typing and five minutes later, I'm done. Not the whole essay, but I'm getting closer. I re-read the page and a half I've just composed while I grab another Vanilla Coke from the cooler and run it over my forehead. It's brilliant: what I've just typed _and_ the cold aluminium on my skin. Maybe the Tylenol is having some effect. I sigh again and shake my head as I pop the tab and take a quick swig -

And nearly choke when Siryn screeches into the room, banging the door open without so much as a knock or a 'Kitty, are you busy?' My headache spikes like a needle jamming into my skull. I manage to slam the can down without spilling anything and put my hands over my ears. Doesn't help much, but my "Siryn! Shut up!" reaches her, and she shuts up.

**Ping!**

**Firecracker says: _Now that I've got your undivided attention… :smirk:_**

I glare at Siryn, who's too young to care and old enough to shrug as an apology.

**Firecracker says: _Look out your damn window!_**

"Hi, Kitty," Siryn finally says, pushing my drapes aside to find the cord and raise the Venetian blinds. Shit, we aren't even in Venice and they get called that. "Jubilee says she canna reach you on the IM thingy and really thinks you want to look out your window."

"Really? Fancy that."

She smiles, all red hair and freckles and I feel rotten just sitting there and not being a sport. The blinds go up and the sun pours in. _Ow._ I save my document for the third time - can't be too careful around here - and push the chair back. It rolls over the edge of the plastic floor protector and falls off, sounding loud in the hot room. I come to stand beside her at the window, wondering idly if I was ever that young, and stare down at the side parking lot and basketball court.

_Hmm, maybe I should _**open** _the window and see if I can catch a breeze. Brilliant, Pryde._ I flick the lock and crank the handle. One of the four window panels swings open and the screen allows air slightly cooler than the room to breathe in.

"Okay, what was so freakin' important that…"

_Oh._

Beside me, Siryn sighs. No, I was never that young.

"Hey, babe."

Jubilee enters my room and perches on the windowsill beside me, looking smug.

"Like the view?"

I clear my throat. "How'd you know they were here?"

She blows a bubble and cracks it loudly in my ear. I hate it when she does that.

"Oh, I was in the kitchen, being a good girl and helping Sam get the pork chops marinated for the barbeque tonight -"

_That must've been a chore_, I say - in my mind. I know other stuff she'd like to help Sam out with, but if he's lucky, he'll burn for the sky before she can catch him.

" - and I happened to notice the shuttle bus arrive from the airport and I thought you'd like to know and - voila!"

Jubilee gestures grandly, her right hand hitting the screen before she expected it to and slightly ruining the effect.

I shrug.

"New students. We knew they were coming. Whoop-dee-doodle."

"Kitty!" Siryn sounds scandalized, her eyes large. No, I couldn't be that young. _Ever._ "How can you _say_ that? Some of them came all the way from _Europe_!" I can hear their voices but not what's actually being said, so I can't make out any accents. Mr. Summers is doing most of the talking, anyway.

"Oh my _god_! They'll have _jetlag_! How _exciting_!" I mimic, and then I'm sorry and put my arm around Siryn's shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. "Sorry, hun. I know you miss your home. I'm sure they'll be real neat to meet and have peachy keen powers." I realize she is wearing a tank top that shows her belly button and hope she hasn't discovered Britney Spears when I wasn't looking. A part of my mind wonders when I became such a den mother. Another part knows the answer. I shut it out. "Is this yours?" I ask casually, tugging at the top.

"Jubilee gave it to me. Isn't it _grand_?"

Beside me, I can see the culprit in question give me a shit-eating grin.

I give Siryn a wan smile. God, my head hurts. "It's… very pink."

"I _love_ pink."

"Well, _that's_ a relief."

"Look!"

Siryn and I look at Jubilee's finger, straining against the screen to point at the court, where a bunch of young people are walking around, staring at the net and the fencing and stuff as if it were the lost city of Atlantis or something. _Oh, they look like a super bright group_, I say - in my mind. There are eight of them - and Mr. Summers, who is standing at parade rest in his J. Crew casuals, red glasses in place, pointing to the stables, which are visible across the lawn. Maybe if I hurry, I can get the essay done and on his desk before four o'clock.

I look askance at Jubilee, who raises an eyebrow and says, "You're not really _looking_ at them, are you, babe?"

"Should I be?"

Siryn sighs again, and leans out of my sticky embrace to put her elbows on the windowsill, head in hands, nose pressed against the screen.

"Isn't he dreamy?"

"Am I in a Sandra Dee flick or something?" I ask no one in particular. Movies from the fifties are playing on the local station at one in the morning when I can't sleep. I doubt either of my friends will know the reference.

"What the hec was all that noise about, sugah?"

Great. Just freakin' great. The Southern Belle of the X-Men. She's not much older than I am and _she's_ got a uniform. Me-_ow_. I don't turn around, but Jubilee does and she smiles. They're _friends_, believe it or not. Don't know if it's the 'Hoop Earring Club' or the 'I'm Cool with Logan Club'. Right now, I don't even care. She comes to stand beside Jubilee - it's a double window, plenty of room - and gazes down, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear with a black-gloved hand.

God, she must be hot. Thank you for _not_ blessing me with a power that means I can't touch anybody, and _not_ having to deal with the wardrobe that goes with it. I decide to smile. I don't know her very well, after all. She hangs out with Bobby and Jubilee and a few of the others and lately, I never seem to be around when they do something together like go to the mall or take in a movie…

When she isn't hanging out with Logan, that is…

Whatever.

_Don't go there, Pryde._

"Hey, Rogue," I say and she turns her head and smiles.

"Hey, Kitty. What's goin' on?"

"Apparently I have the front row seat to view the new students," I say lightly. "Not that I have an _assignment_ to finish by five o'clock _today_ or anything." The last bit I direct at Jubilee, who just grins.

"Why was Siryn screamin'?"

"Look!"

Jubilee could take up being a tour guide; she has that word down pat.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Siryn coos.

I'd leave right now, but this is _my _room, damn it, and I refuse.

"Who?" Rogue asks.

"_Look!"_

It's like Lassie. If she points enough, Jubilee figures she can compel everyone to do her bidding. _What is it, girl? Is Timmy in the well? Jubilee: Look!_

I stare out the window, deciding to get this over with and note that there are five females and three males. More girls than boys. Whoo-hoo! Less shower time for me. Maybe selecting people for soccer just got better, though, if I get first choice over Peter. One guy is quite tall and lean and looks fit. Don't know if he's into sports but it sure looks like he can run from the strength evident in his legs. His shorts leave little to the imagination, really. I take in the olive complexion and curly dark hair and cut-off t-shirt showing the muscular arms and -

Oh.

_Oh, my._

Okay, maybe it _is_ worth looking out my window.

"Ah see what'ch'a mean," Rogue says quietly. Dating Bobby but not dead yet. Good to know the girl's got brains.

Suddenly the group turns as Mr. Summers gestures toward the mansion. The large, dark eyes of the curly-haired boy seem to stare right at us. As one, we pull back from the window and I hope like hell no one below noticed us.

"I have to sort my cds," Siryn squeaks and flees down the hall. At least she isn't screaming.

"See ya'll at the barbeque," Rogue says and disappears in the opposite direction. Heading for the stairs, I note.

Jubilee takes a cautious look at the group again, staying back from the window, and blows another bubble.

_Pop!_

"I wish you wouldn't do that," I say, turning back to my computer. I take the elastic from my wrist and drag my fingers through my hair until the reflection in the monitor looks half decent and the ponytail is secure. I sit down and wriggle the chair back onto the floor protector. One hand grabs the Vanilla Coke, and the other jiggles the mouse until my dragon screen saver is replaced with my homework.

"You're crabby today."

"I have an essay to do! Geez! Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Oh, yeah," she says, her eyes following the group as they move across the lawn. I can hear their voices getting fainter. Must be going to check out the horses, and the lake, and the rock garden Logan is building. Not that I've been invited to see it or help out or anything. "I'm paying attention, alright."

I sigh. "You're drooling."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Dee-two!"

"Ugh. Go away."

I focus on my essay and crack my knuckles.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Jubilee says.

"Tough."

I flex my fingers once more and start to type again, vaguely aware that she's moved to stand behind me, reading as I work. I ignore her. I try not to think about anything else distracting. Dr. Grey, Rogue having a uniform, Siryn dressing like a pop star, for crying out loud. That hot looking boy on the basketball court -

_Pop!_

"Jubes?"

"Yeah?"

"Buzz off."

"Sure."

"Now!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

And she actually does. Thank you once more, God, for hearing my humble plea.

"Your attention, please," the Ivy League voice says over the intercom. "Although we were experiencing technical difficulties with the generator regarding the current lack of fresh, cool, moving air through the mansion, I believe Mr. Wagner and myself have been successful in reviving it and you should be comfortable shortly. Thank you for your patience and don't forget: today a group of new students has arrived at our school and will be joining us for the barbeque. I expect everyone to make them feel welcome."

_Please move your seats to the upright position and buckle your belts, 'cause we're coming in for a bumpy landing_, I say - in my mind. Why he can't just say, "_The air conditioning is back on. Have a nice day."_ is beyond me.

I smile, despite my headache, thinking of Dr. McCoy and Mr. Wagner, rummaging in the mechanical room, flinging tools to one another like a circus juggling act. _Never fear! The Blue Brigade is on the job._

I return to the gunpowder. Briefly I think of punning as I hand it in: "Here it is, Mr. Summers. Hope you get a bang out of it."

_Ugh._ I need help.


	2. Chapter 2

April 9, 2006: I figured I'd better post the second part of the first chapter, in case the first part didn't make a lot of sense by itself. I might not be able to break the others into two parts without being confusing, so we'll see how that goes.

**Remember: Liberties have been taken. I'm trying to keep it 'real' and true to the spirit, though.**

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter One: Part Two**

**Whatever**

It's five twenty and I'm sitting on the edge of a leather, wing-back chair, imagining the smells that go with the smoke I can see coming from the barbeque pit just down a small hill from the back of the mansion. It takes me a few minutes of surreptitious observation of the activity around it - what little I can see from where I sit, if I keep my back very straight - to determine that Logan and Sam are on cooking duty. Surprised they aren't having a beer and belching while they flip pork chops and roast corn. What a guy-bonding sight _that_ would be. I can hear voices and laughter on the back patio. I refrain from sighing and listen to the clock tick away on the wall to my right. _Tick, tock, tick, tock…_ At least the air conditioning is back on. _And_ I finished the essay and arrived with just seconds to spare at the office, meeting Mr. Summers as he was unlocking the door.

Go me.

He's taking the time to read it now. Why? Who can say? _Only the Shadow knows…_ Ahem. Well, if the Shadow does know, he isn't telling me. I keep my hands in my lap, resisting the urge to fiddle with the One Ring replica I have on a chain around my neck. What a Tolkein geek. At least the essay is only six thousand words long. I might be released in time for dessert.

_For crying out loud! Let me go before I starve!_ I say - in my mind.

Mr. Summers isn't saying anything. Not even nodding or grunting or sighing as he flips the pages - double-spaced and footnoted, with a bibliography - apparently absorbed with my observations and supporting facts. His face is unreadable. Idly, I wonder if he plays poker. He might be tough to beat. Bobby still owes me a six-pack of wine coolers; the poor guy just can't play cards to save his sorry ass. I remain tall in the saddle, as it were, so I don't appear intimidated or not confident in my work. Besides, then I can watch some of the mingling going on as people pass by the windows, holding glasses of lemonade and fancy little munchies on toothpicks. Summer themed, of course, but this _is_ Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and not roughing it at day camp. Catered, my dear, hem, hem. I still hope we get to have a bonfire later on and a second meal of roasted weenies on a stick, followed by s'mores, made the _correct_ way with graham crackers and Hershey bars and marshmallows the size of ping pong balls. I'm such a junk food fanatic.

Pork chops, though. I hope they've remembered I don't do pork and have a grilled salmon filet ready.

Not that I'll get to eat it if I never get outta this office.

And I _still_ have a headache.

Whatever.

My eyes are drawn to the mirror behind his desk, which is situated roughly in the middle of a wall of bookshelves. It's about four feet high by three feet wide and the image warps a bit at the edges. I figure it must be an antique of some kind, maybe Victorian. I've stared at it any number of times I've had to talk to Mr. Summers in here. It has the most beautiful wood frame, with carved ivy and little faces peeking out from behind the leaves: quite elaborate. I keep meaning to ask him about it but never seem to remember after I leave the room.

Mr. Summers places my assignment on his desk and I return my attention to the situation at hand. He looks at me. I wish I could see his eyes. It'd give me a better idea of what he's thinking and just how much squirming I'm going to experience.

"Well, Kitty, I want to know what you think of the essay you've submitted."

Oh. At least I know the answer to that one. "I think I've managed to summarize the political situation at the time of the invention of gunpowder and convey the changes in power that occurred in response. I've also dealt with the increased aggression in some nations, using the discovery on their neighbours in an attempt to conquer them before the knowledge spread." Dr. McCoy? You aren't the only one who can string together a decent sentence.

He nods. "And?"

"I would probably need more than six thousand words to properly explain the impact on society as a whole as war became more devastating. I touched upon the philosophical reaction to this new tool, much like the development of nuclear weapons gave rise to such debate, as noted figures contemplated the ability to destroy so many lives."

Mr. Summers considers this, and then says, "Do you feel you need more time?"

Uh-oh.

"Even if I had more time, I find the topic a bit overwhelming. There are so many angles to the discovery and ramifications on society." It sounds good, and it's true.

"True." He picks up a pen. "Perhaps if you narrowed the focus of your thesis, you'd find the essay a bit more cohesive. You obviously know your topic well and lean towards discussing the impact on society."

"I did find that more interesting." He waits. I give him a small smile. "With great power comes great responsibility," I say quietly, not positive who said that originally, but knowing I'm paraphrasing something he told me several years ago when I first came to Xavier's. "Everybody's affected. Fire, gunpowder, nuclear weapons, superheroes." I look at my feet. "It's not the advancements in warfare, Mr. Summers. It's what we do with them."

"Are we at war, Kitty?"

Ah. He picked up on the 'superhero' part. I guess it's on my mind. I look up and focus on the eyes I can imagine behind those ruby-quartz glasses.

And think of Dr. Grey.

"After what we've just been through?" I control the slight quaver I can hear creeping into my voice. Was it really only six weeks ago?

_Scenes flash through my head, like the pages of a photo album being flipped._

The armed men flooding the mansion. Siryn's scream. Phasing just before the tranquilizer darts can hit me. Initially on my own, I was able to sneak up behind one of the soldiers and put my martial arts training to the test. He resisted, but that just made my victory all the sweeter. Not that I didn't receive a bruise or two, but let's face it, he had the advantage of height, weight and government training. Didn't save him from losing consciousness. Jerk.

Destabilizing the molecules in half the gun and snapping the weapon in two was also satisfying.

I encountered three other soldiers heading towards the main hall and phased through them, shorting out all their high-tech communication equipment. Wish Sam could've seen that, but he was visiting his family and missed the whole thing. Some of the younger kids witnessed it, though, from a terrified huddle on the stairs. They were a bit stunned when I proceeded to run up the wall and grab one of the old oars from the boathouse that was on display. I charged the men I'd just phased through, who were real slow figuring out what I'd done. Solid wood. Some folks cared how things were made, once upon a time. The oar made quite the impact, as it were; the soldiers weren't unconscious but it bought me time.

_More images, as if they were someone else's experiences. _

Flinging the oar at the men as they struggled to stand. Yelling, "Move!" And, being the eldest present, the kids listened, a few still gaping at me as I herded them through the nearest secret tunnel to the woods on the east side of the mansion. Geez, what did they think I did in my spare time? Running in the dark with the choppers and searchlights behind us, my dance shoes giving little protection from the stones and twigs. Most of the kids are barefoot, their faces pale and scared. Meeting Peter and the students he was able to lead to safety. Doing a head count, and knowing that Jubilee was one of the ones missing. Evading the soldiers that stayed behind, deciding it was mutant hunting season, and doing a pretty damn fine job of it if I do say so.

This was the experience that spawned the den mother in me. Who knew?

The Blackbird tracked us down, about thirty miles from the mansion. I'll never forget the high-five with all the kids after two days in the woods with little sleep, and only three chocolate bars, some trail mix and adrenaline keeping us going. Getting a bear hug from Peter was pretty cool, too. We'd done it. It was over. Everyone had made it. We'd worked as a team and been X-Men for a while. It was exhilarating, even if we were exhausted and dirty and in our jammies.

Jubilee had leapt from the plane before the hatch had finished opening and hugged me like she thought she'd never see me again, which had crossed her mind, as I found out later. Bobby and Rogue were there. Dani and Ray were tired but would be okay, and so would everyone else.

"Where's John?"

How I wish I hadn't asked that.

Then I knew something was wrong. _Several somethings._

The images speed up and I close my eyes. The X-Men leaving the plane, checking the kids for injuries and reassuring them. The look of concern on Peter's face as he exchanges a glance with me when we both notice their strained expressions and automatic responses. Ms. Munroe moving towards us as the others are loaded onto the Blackbird, tired and happy and, blessedly, missing the undercurrent. I could hear exclamations of surprise and noted someone had stayed on board and was now being introduced. It appeared to be a blue demon with yellow eyes. At least Siryn hadn't screamed.

Ms. Munroe finally spoke. "Kitty, Peter."

The pause was palpable.

I stared and quickly came to a conclusion. "John isn't on the Blackbird, is he?"

"No." So soft, so sad.

"Dr. Grey isn't on the Blackbird either, is she?"

She looked startled. It hadn't really been a question. My favourite teacher would be out here, with all the others, smiling at the older kids and giving hugs to the younger ones. I swallowed.

"What happened?" This from Peter, as I was starting to lose it. It had been a harrowing two days.

"We'll talk about it later," Ms. Munroe said. "Please. Don't discuss this with the others."

We made noises of agreement. The Blackbird was pretty crowded but at least we didn't have far to go. Logan stayed behind and was going to walk back to the mansion; ostensibly to make sure no soldiers remained. I looked at Bobby but he wouldn't look at me. Was John dead? I didn't have to ask about Dr. Grey. I just… knew. The tension was - I can't find the right words to describe it.

Peter held my hand all the way home.

I open my eyes. I'm back in the office. The clock is going _tick, tock_… Mr. Summers is waiting patiently for my response.

"After what we've just been through?" I repeat. My voice is calm and not accusatory. How can a sixteen-year-old girl sound like she's as wise as Professor Charles Xavier? "We can be used as weapons, sir. We can defend and we can destroy. That's why we're here, right? So we know the difference, and can make choices that won't destroy us." I wonder why we're having this conversation.

His face crumbles. He looks at me like he's never seen me before.

"Do you still have the nightmares?"

No point lying. Never been my thing.

"Sometimes."

He shifts in his chair.

"What you and Peter did that day -"

"Has thoroughly been discussed." Suddenly, I'm tired and not sure if I could eat, anyway. "We did what we've been trained to do, sir. We defended. We made the right choice in getting the others away from the mansion. And we helped keep them alive. Peter and I still talk about it. We know what we did."

"It took a lot of courage."

"We've been well trained, sir." I smile a little, not wanting to seem angry, though some disappointment is there. "And we paid attention. To the gymnastics and the fighting, to the meditation. To the leadership workshops."

"You are both excellent students."

My head is thrumming. I decide to try to change the subject. "Except my history essay needs some work, right?"

"You didn't know what you were capable of until then, did you?"

So, he wasn't going to let it go. I shrug.

"I think I knew, but it scared the crap outta me."

"I'll ask you again: Are we at war, Kitty?"

"I think we're in a battle to _prevent_ a war," I respond carefully, quietly. "We've been invaded. We've had casualties. Is that considered a state of war?"

Someone knocks on the office door. I send a silent thank you to whoever decided to interrupt and promise them the moon.

Mr. Summers clears his throat. "Yes?"

The door opens just enough to allow Siryn to poke her head in. She's flushed from running and smiles brightly.

_Hun, you can wear all the pink tank tops you want._

"Dinner's ready!"

"Thank you, Siryn." Mr. Summers smiles and nods that he has understood. By coincidence, he and I stand at exactly the same time. "We'll continue this later," he says, and tucks my essay into the top drawer of his desk. Siryn has returned to the garden but she left the door open.

"Thank you, Mr. Summers."

"Kitty?"

The tone in his voice stops me as I reach for the door to open it wider and leave. I pull my hand back and turn to face him, wondering again why a discussion about a history essay became something completely different.

He looks like he wants to say all kinds of difficult things. His face is pale and his mouth is having trouble staying firm. He's rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, something I've seen him do the few times I've caught the end of a meeting between himself and the Professor. He straightens, apparently coming to a decision, and moves around the desk to put a hand on my shoulder. If I could see his eyes, I'd know they were boring right into mine.

"It's going to be alright, Kitty," he says with conviction, as if he's telling himself as well as me, hoping he'll believe it, too.

I can feel my eyes starting to tear up and I blink to stop it, but I can't - and he sees.

"I miss her, too," I manage to blurt out feebly, and bawl into the chest of Mr. Summers, who is suddenly, fiercely holding me tight. I don't know if I could stand if he weren't supporting me. I haven't cried like this in front of anyone, not even Peter. Not even at Dr. Grey's memorial service. I certainly didn't dream I'd finally cry, _really_ cry, in front of the man she loved.

He's stroking my hair and whispering, "It's okay," over and over, and it isn't until a few minutes later that I feel his tears on my forehead. They're running down his face and going to his chin, where they hesitate before letting go. I start to hug him back, feeling stronger, and my crying increases.

My day has been full of extremes. I hope I survive it.

I don't know how long we stand like that. Eventually, our crying reduces to sniffles and he turns towards the door.

Ms. Munroe is in the room, eyes huge, waiting. I wonder how long she's been there. I scrub at my face with the back of my hand and notice the box of tissue she's holding out for us. Mr. Summers gently pulls one free. I pull one, and then decide I'm only fooling myself and rapidly wrench six more in quick succession. A slow, sad smile comes over her beautiful face and she places the box on the small, dainty table beside the chair I'd been sitting in moments ago. I quickly wipe away my tears then blow my nose. It isn't a very delicate sound. Mr. Summers blows his nose, too, and it sounds like an elephant. He chuckles. I realize we each still have one arm around each other and it feels comfortable. There's nothing inappropriate or embarrassing about it. I sigh.

"Are my eyes bloodshot?"

"No, Kitty," Ms. Munroe assures me.

"Amazing," I murmur, and clear my throat. "The Professor knew we were having a rough time, didn't he?"

Her eyes move almost imperceptibly to Mr. Summers. "Yes. He thought I might be able to help you - _both_ of you - so you could join us for dinner." She smiles, a beautiful, blinding smile, and says, "And yes, they've remembered you don't eat pork."

"Cool," I say, sniffing and casting about the room for the garbage can. I didn't realize her other arm was behind her back until she brings it forward, presenting us with the garbage can. Man, she's organized. We toss our tissues in and finally step apart. I move to the table and pull more tissues and blow my nose again, thoroughly, until I think my brains might be coming out. I pitch that batch into the garbage and pull my t-shirt down, smoothing my hands over my thighs and oddly comforted by the feel of denim.

I glance in the mirror with the carved frame, checking for pieces of tissue on my nose. Good thing I'm not big on make-up. My face looks tired but gets the 'all clear'. I can see Dr. Grey, staring back at me, but I'm almost used to this waking dream state by now. I smile at her.

"I wish you were here," I whisper, not meaning to say it out loud. I notice Ms. Munroe's reaction, her reflection looking at me, puzzled.

I gasp when I see the reflection of Mr. Summers in the mirror and turn towards him. He has taken his glasses off. His eyes are tightly shut and he's wiping them gently. I've never seen him without glasses before. He has long lashes and I know several females who would be envious. I wonder, not for the first time, if he has to sleep with a pair of glasses strapped around his head to secure them, in case he should wake up suddenly and need to be able to see. Thank you, God, for not giving me this power, either. I look at the clock. _Tick, tock…_ It's almost five forty-five.

Ms. Munroe has put the garbage can down. She holds her hands out to me, palms up and I place my hands in them. She pulls me into a gentle embrace. I don't want to start crying again, especially since my stomach has decided that food really _is_ a good idea. It feels like I'm being held by a powerful goddess - oh, wait. I _am_ being held by a powerful goddess, albeit one wearing jeans and a tank top. No wonder I feel protected - and scared. I pull away slowly and give her a smile.

"Thanks," I manage.

"Anytime," she says, and I know she means it.

"Well." Mr. Summers straightens the collar of his shirt in the mirror, his glasses back in place and all evidence of our grieving in a small, cylindrical can. "Shall we go to dinner?"

"Sounds like a plan, sir." I give him a smile, too, and receive one in return.

'_Tis better to give than to receive. _

As we leave the office, I now know how that saying came into being, except, of course, that receiving is pretty cool, too.


	3. Chapter 3

April 30, 2006: I've moved this story to the 'X-Men: The Movie' category from the 'Comic' category, and decided I'd post a chapter - in two parts, because of the size - the celebrate it's relocation. :) Here is Part One. 

Please read the first post for the huge Author's Note, explaining most things that might matter to this story, lol! ;)

**Remember: Liberties have been taken. I'm trying to keep it 'real' and true to the spirit, though.**

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass **

**Chapter Two: Part One**

**Who Are You, Anyway?**

August 5, 2004, 5:51 PM

We move silently through the halls until we reach the kitchen. Ms. Munroe and Mr. Summers go outside ahead of me, their faces a mixture of concern and relief.

"We'll talk more later, if you like," the goddess offers, and I nod, non-committal. It isn't that I think her insincere, but she still intimidates me a bit. Our fearless leader squeezes my arm and gives me a reassuring smile. I manage to smile in return and watch them join the others, but don't follow immediately. I steal back to the washroom off the kitchen, next to the mudroom, and double-check my appearance. At least my headache has subsided to a distant Samba beat. Satisfied, I straighten my Batman t-shirt for the umpteenth time and leave the mansion through the kitchen door.

The barbeque is well underway. The back patio smells of sunscreen and mosquito candles and burning flesh. The latter is, thankfully, courtesy of the pork chops and not some violent attack by a fire-breathing demon. I find myself locating Mr. Wagner before I can stop the impulse. He's using his holographic device, as is Dr. McCoy, so the Mundanes - read the caterers - won't be alarmed and the new students won't bombard them with questions. They both look like themselves, only not so blue, and their teeth aren't quite so… pointy. I smell brimstone, but it must be my imagination.

_Teleporter, not a demon. Teleporter, not a demon._

Mr. Wagner is helping Dani stick the torches into the ground around the edge of the garden. Later tonight, they'll provide light and a wonderful atmosphere for the dessert table, also catered, hem, hem. Above me two strings of paper lanterns are hanging diagonally along the beams under the porch, which covers the patio, weaving from the furthest posts to cross at the middle: a giant 'x'. Little white lights are wrapped around each of the eight posts, just waiting for dusk.

Right now, though, the sun is still shining on Xavier's and the lake behind us is a shimmering ripple. There's a cool breeze here, albeit a faint one, probably coming off the lake. Maybe it'll be comfortable to sleep tonight _without_ the air conditioning. It's a blessing in the heat and humidity, but there's nothing like Nature's Own coming through your window and whispering your dreams.

_Hmmm. That didn't sound too bad_, I think to myself, absently picking up a Chinet plate and staring at the buffet of salads without really seeing them. _Maybe I should write that down before I forget it. _I reach with my free hand for my back pocket and my PDA -

"You'll need a fork to get anything on your plate, babe."

Jubilee grins at me and waves the recommended utensil in front of my face. I glance at her, hoping my eyes don't look puffy in the sunlight and hold out my hand. She offers it to me over her left wrist, as if she were presenting the hilt of a sword. I snatch it up and return to staring at the salads, hoping the one I finally choose is something I like. It seems to involve macaroni, and the Kraft dinner fiend in me decides that has potential.

"You okay, babe? Scotty not like your essay?"

It makes me uncomfortable when she refers to the teachers - the X-Men - by their first names - especially diminutives like 'Scotty', for _crying_ out loud - as if she was on buddy-buddy terms with them or their authority and experience didn't matter. It's a sign of respect, as far as I'm concerned, to not be so casual about how I address them. It might affect how I start thinking about them, and I want to keep that on a positive note. Maybe I've been listening to Matsushima too long and some of those complicated, Japanese layers of address have rubbed off on me. We _have_ been communicating since I was eleven and she was ten. Despite her cultural background, Jubilee is about as Chinese as I am… Jewish. No, I'm more Jewish than she is Chinese.

But only just. I sigh.

"He'll give me the low down later," I say, and scoop something that looks like couscous onto my plate.

"Now," she says and wiggles her eyebrows, and I know I'm about to get more information in one concentrated period than I am probably capable of retaining. Or maybe not: retention of knowledge isn't my mutant ability, but I do seem to be very good at it. "Pretend you care about your food but pay attention to what I say," she continues. "Look over at the barbeque." I do. Logan is there in his typical jeans and black tank top - he doesn't have a last name, so I can't do much about that - and Sam, wearing jeans and an American flag t-shirt - he's a teaching assistant so I don't have to call him Mr. Guthrie - and they're using tongs to place pork chops and roasted corn onto the plates of a line of students and newbies.

"See the blonde?" I do. She's wearing a white, lacy summer top, off the shoulders, a pair of flared tan pants and tanned leather mules. She looks just 'so' and isn't smiling. There's a gold necklace, gold bracelets and gold rings and I bet they aren't less than fourteen karat. Her fair complexion is like cream and I envy her that immediately. I'm not fond of my freckles. Beautiful and a bit aloof. "Her name's _really_ long - the only part I remember is Amara - and she's some sorta royalty from Rome, or something." Jubilee fiddles with a pair of tongs and wriggles them into a spring mix salad, picking out only the leaves she likes. "Now, the girl behind her is _totally_ different."

I regard the slight, black teen in question, who is covered in tight denim that fits like a second skin. She looks comfortable, though, and I like the way her long hair is braided and beaded in the cornrow style. Her jewellery consists of colourful beads, too: a choker and bracelet. She's smiling and thanking Sam, who smiles back. I can just hear him drawl, "No problem, miss."

"Her name's Keisha… something-or-another, and she is _so_ nice. She's originally from the Dominican Republic and she likes Nickleback and roller blading and anything with Wesley Snipes in it."

"Good to know you've hit all the important points," I murmur, and load the other third of my plate with Caesar salad.

"Ha, ha," she deadpans. "Moving right along. The guy behind her is Russell and he's from London, England and I _love _the way he talks." I take in the all-black attire, spiky dark hair, and huge blue eyes and tiny, cupid lips and figure he's a strong candidate for the 'Most Likely to Dragged onto the Dance Floor' award. He's probably about my height and moves well. I figure I could take him in a fight.

"Cute," I say, and reach for a few devilled eggs.

Jubilee huffs. "Are you paying attention, babe?"

"Is there going to be a quiz later?" I ask sweetly.

"There just might be." We move to the beverage table, as tight as twins, and pretend to ponder the pop selections. I always go with something Coke oriented and she prefers Pepsi. Makes me wonder if there's hope for her. "Look over by the pool." I do. A short girl with even shorter red hair is clutching her recently filled plate and looking nervous. She's dressed like a stereotypical schoolgirl from a fifties documentary on education, in white blouse and blue kilt and loafers with knee-high socks. I'd say she was younger than me, but it could just be 'cause she looks like we're going to throw _her_ onto the barbeque. "That's Rain, only she spells it some weird way: 'R-a-h-n-e'. She's from Scotland and was hanging out with Moira before coming here."

_That's_ Dr. McTaggart, _you moron!_ I say - in my mind.

Whatever.

"She's _really_ shy. The girl she's hanging out with was also at Muir Island. I think they're glued together." I consider the other girl, who is probably older than I am. Her black hair is more severe than Jubilee's will ever be and her wardrobe is immaculate and very… traditional. I wonder if she's hot in a long sleeved, Mandarin-collared top and long, straight skirt. I bet they're made of silk. "Her name's Shan, but it's spelled 'X-i-apostrophe-a-n'. I don't know what's up with that. She's from… Vietnam? I think? I don't know. Anyway, they seem nice enough. Just a little spooked."

"I don't blame them." I reach for a Coke and pop the tab, remembering my first barbeque at the mansion. I was too excited to be really scared, but I did feel like I'd entered an episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The commentators of that program would've had a field day, no doubt, reading my expressions and guessing what I was thinking. Dr. McCoy, who is one of the original X-Men like Dr. Grey, was visiting the school, taking a break between lectures on Mutant/Human relations. He was very gracious, if extremely loquacious. It was a bit of a shock when, later that night after the Mundanes had departed, he turned off his holographic camouflage and I saw how blue and furry he really was, and how his teeth were very sharp. Excessive vocabulary continued to flow from him, and it was surreal to say the least. I was glad I was sitting down. I have no clear memory of my actual thoughts, but I can hear the commentators now…

"Hey!" Jubilee snaps her fingers and I return to _her_ running commentary. "See the boy who's getting his corn from Logan right _now_? He's from Brazil. His name's Roberto -"

"Great. Another Bobby -"

"Don't interrupt me, I'm on a roll." She chooses her Pepsi and I despair of her taste. "He seems to think he's pretty cool. Says he lives for soccer and is _very_ good at it. Cocky little shit. It could be true. He seems fit, anyway, for a kid."

A kid. I consider his summer casuals - t-shirt, shorts, sneakers - and how he looks at home in the sun, vibrant, even. He does look very fit and will probably be a lady killer in a few years. Lucky us. He's maybe fourteen. Jubilee will be sixteen in October. How quickly we forget.

"The brunette with the day-glo pants? She's Angie and she's very loud but seems cool enough, I guess. She likes Nickleback, too, but thinks Vin Diesel could wipe the floor with Wesley Snipes." I take a sip of my Coke and consider Angie's purple top and brightbrightbright orange pants and decide it's a fun combination that doesn't bother me much at all. Even if I _am _blind, now. Her sandals are purple, too, so it sorta ties together. "She's from France, so I don't know what's up with the name 'Angie'. Her hair hasn't moved but looks real soft, so I gotta find out what she uses." I hide my smile with another sip of my Coke and we start to walk from under the porch and into the sun, gradually approaching the dwindling lines at the barbeque.

"And that leaves… Hotboy."

She says this with such relish that I almost hate to get a closer look at him, least he really be that good-looking and make me more depressed than I already am.

"I take it his name isn't 'Hotboy'."

"I'll call him anything he wants me to call him, but for now, he's my Hotboy." I try to ignore the proprietary nature of that sentence and look around the garden as if I'm admiring the decorations.

'Hotboy' has received his food and is moving to towards the pool with Roberto. He's wearing the same cut off t-shirt as he was in when we spied him from my room and I can see nice, firm abs and smooth, muscular arms. His shorts aren't too tight but the nice, firm butt is evident. He's wearing sneakers but no socks. In this heat? _Ouch._ He must be about six foot and the legs seem to go on forever. Xi'an says something to him and he turns enough that I get a better view of his face. Huge brown eyes, strong cheekbones, square jaw, thin, pink lips, dark curls –

"You're drooling," Jubilee whispers.

"Am not." I hope I don't look as flushed as I suddenly feel. "What's his name?"

"Jack. He's from England, like Russell, but not London. His mother is Italian."

A Renaissance angel drawn by Michelangelo has come to life and wandered into the garden. That was too poetic and sappy. Oooo, I hate that. I frown. Doesn't matter, anyway. He'll win the dance floor award and Russell will just have to take second place.

"Isn't he dreamy?"

Siryn has joined us, even though she already has her food. I know her name is really 'Theresa' but she likes being called 'Siryn' more. Maybe it's a phase she's going through, just like I did. Phase. Just like I did. Have I punned?

"Lookin' good, huh?" Rogue stands beside me, pushing some coleslaw around her plate but staring at the angel - new student, _ugh_ - and giving me a nudge with her elbow. "Better up close, even, right, sugah?"

"Hell, yeah."

"She was asking _me_, Jubes."

"You had your chance."

"Whatever."

Hotboy - _Jack_ - turns around at this very moment, looks right at the four of us with those gorgeous brown eyes and smiles. It's blinding. My eyes go wide with guilt at being caught and I turn to my right, towards the barbeque - and am mortified even further that _all_ of us turned in the same direction, at the same time and we're all wearing the same expression.

And Logan and Sam are regarding us cautiously, as if we've done something wrong but they can't figure out what. My face feels like it's burning now. I thrust my plate forward and say, "My salmon, please," and look at the bricks on the barbeque pit like they're covered in hieroglyphics, and if I don't translate them in the next thirty seconds, the world will end. I give a quick glance sideways at the other three and note they seem to be helping me with my task.

Sam silently loads my plate and turns to give Jubilee her pork chop. It doesn't help when I look into Logan's eyes to ask for my corn and a small, knowing smile curls at the edges of his mouth. _Damn._ I don't know a hec of a lot about this guy - hey, even he doesn't seem to know who he is, if I understand Jubilee correctly - but I do know his senses are more heightened than most, and four young females have just had a hormone rush. I meet his gaze - startled to notice his eyes are a nice brown shade, too - and mutter, "What's a girl gotta do to get corn around here?"

He opens his mouth to say something but changes his mind and I watch his bare, muscular arm reach out with the tongs. He puts a cob of corn on my plate and smiles. It's blinding. Why am I suddenly noticing people's eyes and smiles and muscles and stuff? _I've been at my computer too long again_, I decide and calmly walk as far away from everyone else as I can without leaving the party. Three other people have the same idea and the Fabulous Foursome are now huddled near two lawn chairs, gaping at one another and incapable, it would seem, of figuring out what to do so we can all sit down. I drop to the grass without spilling anything and make myself comfortable. Siryn joins me, leaving Jubilee and Rogue to take the chairs.

"_You've_ been at the computer too long," Jubilee tells me, sitting down and balancing her plate on her lap. She starts cutting into her chop.

"_You_ were blushing like a beacon, too," I say, breaking my salmon up with my fork. "What's your excuse?"

"Ah wish ah could wear somethin' really nice," Rogue says wistfully. I know her name is 'Marie', but I haven't been given permission to call her that yet. Only a few people use it. She seems to need a boost, so I'm nice and give her one.

"Rogue," I begin, swallowing my first bite of salmon. "You tend to wear tight clothes that cover every inch of you, like the little green number you're wearing now. There's something appealing in that to a guy. For starters, it hugs all your curves. For seconders, guys can use their imaginations and picture themselves undressing you. You might not dress girly like Amara over there -" I wave my fork briefly in the blonde's general direction "- but you can be sexy regardless."

Three pairs of eyes are looking at me like I have two heads.

"What?" I ask, taking a mouthful of couscous.

"Where do you get that stuff?"

"I pay attention to everything, Jubes. You should know that by now."

"What happened to Frumpy Sweater Kitty?"

She says it quietly and her face flushes when she realizes she said it out loud. Frumpy Sweater Kitty. Wallflower Kitty. Geeky Kitty. _Here, KittyKittyKitty…_

I guess I was a bit shy when I first came to Xavier's, and being a brain can get you labelled as having no personality or social life. Being heavily into computers is even worse. People _know_ I'm not one dimensional, but I guess Kitty Pryde talking about methods of attraction for the opposite sex isn't something they expect. Knowing the answer to a difficult Calculus question? _Sure._ Remembering how to take apart a car engine and repair it when you break down at the roadside, in the middle of nowhere? _Sure._ Fixing the frozen computer screen and rescuing someone's homework? _Sure._ Scoring high on a Danger Room program and rescuing the Mannequinov family? Well, some people know about that, but such activities aren't common knowledge.

Sex and Kitty Pryde? I'm not Sarah Jessica Parker, nor do I want to be.

"Uh, I mean -"

"Who are you, anyway? And what have you done with my friend?" I say it jokingly, letting her know it's okay. She smiles, grateful.

"Yeah, that's it. Like 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' or something."

"Hey, I might be quiet sometimes, but I'm not blind, deaf or dumb." I eat some Caesar salad. It's delicious and I decide to get some more when my plate is empty. I shrug. "I notice stuff. Besides," I wink, "it's too hot for frumpy sweaters."

We continue to eat in silence, still a bit awkward after Jubilee's comment. I look around the garden. Russell is chatting with Dani, who is taller than he is, and Peter, who is _much_ taller than he is, and they seem to be getting along well. Ray and Blink and Ms. Munroe are at the pool with Rahne and Xi'an. Good to see they aren't being left out. Mr. Summers and Dr. McCoy are talking with Angie and Keisha and Amara, though Amara seems to be listening more than actually participating. Maybe she doesn't understand English very well. Roberto and Hot - _Jack_ - are laughing with Mr. Wagner and Professor Xavier about something. Bobby is over at the barbeque with Logan and Sam, who are finally feeding themselves. They start for the buffet under the porch as I watch, trying to ignore how gracefully Logan moves. Some of the younger kids descend on the Professor, begging to have permission to go into the pool.

"Not yet," he tells them in his smooth British accent. "You have to wait an hour after eating before you can swim."

"Awww!" This from Alison, who loves swimming and is just learning how to dive without doing a bellyflop. She looks at the grass when she thinks he'll be angry with her. _He is wiser than that, little one._ The Professor looks at me just then - I don't know why - and says to the group, "You can go swimming at seven-thirty, and I think we can extend lights out tonight so you can stay up until eleven."

"Whoo-hoo!" several of them cheer, including Pietro and Wanda, ever the exuberant twins, who do a double high-five with one another. Pietro blurs from the garden and into the mansion, leaving the door to the recreation room intact and on its hinges. No doubt, he'll be back in a few seconds, sporting his latest, bizarre swim trunks. Alison glows faintly as she absorbs the sound of happy kids and turns it into light, and hugs the distinguished gentleman in the wheelchair. I hope the Mundanes won't notice. Pietro returns, as predicted, thoughtfully bringing his sister's suit and towel with him. Today, his gear is silver.

"Oh no."

We look at Siryn and follow her gaze. Roberto and Hot - _Jack_ - are coming over to our little group. They both look comfortable in the skin they're in, as it were; confident and relaxed. I realize Roberto has a primitive sun design on his t-shirt and that Jack has the words 'I'm not here' on his. His shorts, I note, are loose at the waist and riding a bit low, showing all who care to see that he wears boxers, not briefs, and that his are currently red plaid.


	4. Chapter 4

April 30, 2006: I've moved this story to the 'X-Men: The Movie' category from the 'Comic' category, and decided I'd post a chapter - in two parts, because of the size - the celebrate it's relocation. J Here is Part Two. 

Please read the first post for the huge Author's Note, explaining most things that might matter to this story, lol! ;)

Words bracketted by '' are in another language. FFN doesn't like what I actually used so I've had to improvise...

**Remember: Liberties have been taken. I'm trying to keep it 'real' and true to the spirit, though.**

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass **

**Chapter Two: Part Two**

**Who Are You, Anyway?**

All four of us look down at our various apparel and sigh. In my case, Batman rocks but it isn't a very fashionable statement. Rogue looks fine - and she has a boyfriend, for crying out loud - and Jubilee is wearing her usual bright yellows and reds that could be spotted from orbit. Siryn is eleven and cute and looking too much like Britney Spears at the moment.

"Relax," I tell her and she does. I set my plate down on the immaculate lawn and turn to the other two. "You look fine, okay?"

"And you look… comfy." I know Jubilee is trying to make me feel better.

"Hey, Batman is cool," I say, and hope couscous isn't all over my chin.

"Hi," Jack says.

"Hey," I reply.

"I think you're the only one we haven't met yet." He has a beautiful voice to go with his beautiful exterior but I manage not to flush and stand very gracefully, as a gymnast and dancer should.

Go me.

"Kitty Pryde," I say and extend my hand. Roberto takes it firmly in his and bows to kiss it.

"Roberto da Costa," he says, his lips brushing the back of my knuckles. Oh yeah, he'll be a lady-killer someday. I catch Siryn's quiet sigh and wonder if he isn't reaching an audience already. "It is a pleasure to meet so many lovely ladies." Corny as hell, but sounds good with that accent. He's got that Ricky Martin Latin thing going on. If I were younger…

"Welcome to Xavier's," I say, retrieving my hand and holding it out to his friend. He gives me a firm handshake and fixes me with those eyes of his.

"Jack Lainsbury." I pull my hand gently, just as a test, but he doesn't let go. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think that's possible."

"We couldn't have met before now, could we?"

"No." I tug and my hand comes free. "I've been finishing an assignment and cut it close to the wire. I only just got here." I drag my gaze downwards and encounter his plate. The only traces of the grill there involve corn. "Didn't you get a pork chop?"

"I'm vegetarian."

"So you gotta watch out for junk food, too, huh?"

"Absolutely. You never know what they put in that stuff."

_Guess that's one reason why you don't have an ounce of body fat on you_, I say - in my mind. He's still looking at me so I take a step back, sit down and retrieve my plate, flicking a brave ant back onto the grass.

"So." I take another mouthful of couscous and look up at Jubilee, who doesn't seem to know what to say after 'so'. Will wonders never cease? Jack and Roberto fold themselves onto the grass between Siryn and myself. "Have you tried the macaroni salad? It's very good." Jubilee plays hostess: _Look!_

"Yes, thank you," Roberto says. Sure, he's a kid, but I'll listen to him read the telephone book. He'll grow into his voice.

"The potato salad is especially tasty," Jack adds. I don't know what part of England he comes from, but if they all talk like this, I'm moving there.

Oddly enough, it's Rogue and I who share a moment while the others continue to talk about food. We look at one another, our expressions conveying amusement and bewilderment at our friends. _What are they doing?_ Our eyes blink. _Two good-looking guys and we couldn't be talking about other stuff?_ I roll my eyes and she smiles. I shrug and tilt my head at Jubilee and pretend I'm panting. Rogue nearly snorts gingerale out her nose.

"Oi!" That would be Russell.

"Oi!" Jack says back, and another of the new students joins our circle. He stands there for a bit and I wonder if he's hot in his black dress shirt - not tucked in, of course - black, black jeans - are they new? - and worn black cowboy boots. His cupid lips smile, revealing a slight gap between his front teeth and it makes him more endearing, somehow. I realize he wants to sit and shift along the grass to make room. Siryn wiggles back a bit, too, and the circle widens. He sits beside me.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his plate down. His other hand holds a bottle of root beer. "Russell." I shake his hand. He has calluses on his fingertips.

"Kitty."

"Cheers."

"Guitar?"

If it's possible, his blue eyes get bigger. "Yeah. Electric. You play?"

"A little acoustic," I admit, wondering when was the last time I picked it up.

"Right on." God, it's like talking to Jamie Oliver or something. He grins at the circle. "The food's _really_ puckah." Definitely Jamie Oliver.

Jack smiles. I'm blinded by his white, white teeth. "We're gonna hafta get a British-American dictionary for this lot."

"I think we'll be able to figure it out," I assure him.

"This boy givin' you trouble?" Keisha comes to stand behind where Jack is sitting and toes his butt with her right sneaker.

"Not yet," Jubilee tells her. Keisha sits between Roberto and Jack, puts her plate down and leans over, her hand extended towards me.

"I've not met you, girl."

"Kitty," I say, shaking her hand and wondering if we should have done the nametag thing.

"Keisha." She waves her hand behind her without looking and says, "And this be Angie."

"Bonjour." Angie waves at me and waits for Jack and Siryn to move so that she can sit down, too.

"Bonjour," I respond. "Welcome to Xavier's."

"You speak French? Oh, please say something in French! I miss it so much! "

I clear my throat and decide to find out how rusty my French really is. "What would you like me to say? "

"Oh, that's fabulous! I'll be able to talk with someone when I'm too tired to translate! And you're so nice, too! "

I laugh. "How do you know? You've only just met me."

"Everyone says you're the best! All the kids wanted to tell me about this time when they were being chased by soldiers in the woods, and your teachers say you and Peter can show all us new students the ropes. "

_Do they really?_ I say - in my mind. Interesting.

Angie _is_ loud but so sweet and excited and obviously homesick. Jack and Marie are following the conversation, but I guess everyone else is in the dark.

"I like your colours. "

"And I like the Batman!"

I nod. "A super hero without super powers." I revert to English for the sake of four of our group.

"Batman? Oh, yeah, he's brill!"

I decide listening to Russell reading the 'phone book would be like verbal bungee jumping, but that it could be fun.

"Do you collect?"

"Do I? I've got them all back at my mum's. The 'Dark Knight' rules!"

I find myself grinning as Russell and I do a high-five and bond over Batman. He packs a pretty good wallop but I still think I could take him. He seems to be assessing me in the same way.

"Who are you, anyway?" This from Jack, who is frowning a bit. Everyone looks at him and his olive skin darkens. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant… what do you do here? Are you one of the TAs?"

That isn't what he meant, and I know it, and he knows I know it. _Later, you._

"Unofficially, I guess you could say that. I tutor for some of the subjects -"

"There's a subject you _don't_ tutor in, babe?"

_Shut up, Jubes_, I say - in my mind. "- and right now, I'm teaching some of the kids to swim, getting them to qualify for badges and so on. I'm registered and everything, so it's all legit. They do their tests at a pool I life guard at sometimes in Salem Center."

"That is so cool! See, you are the sweetest!"

"Depends on who you talk to and whether Jupiter is in line with Mars."

Angie starts. "It _does_?"

"No," I say with a straight face. "It's Jupiter and Venus."

"Really?"

"No. I'm just playing with your head. I do that sometimes, to keep people on their toes."

"Oh." Angie smiles. "Okay. I will be ready for the next one."

The only new students who haven't joined our circle are Rahne, Xi'an and Amara. They're sitting together at a table by the pool, talking to Ms. Munroe and Dr. McCoy. Bobby, Ray and Blink have joined Dani and Peter at another table. I can see the kids playing tag on the other side of the pool area. It's so… normal. I do a headcount: paranoid den mother, that's me. I finish my salmon, which was absolutely delicious, and the rest of my salads and decide to fulfill my promise to myself. I stand, happy I can still do so in one, fluid motion.

"I'm going for more Caesar," I announce and walk towards the patio.

"Me, too," Rogue says and falls into step with me. She lowers her voice. "Ah wonder what they can do."

"We'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

We reach the buffet and can't continue our conversation. The Professor is there, along with Mr. Summers, Mr. Wagner, Sam and Logan. The Professor has a tall glass of fresh lemonade in his hand. Mr. Summers has a Coke. I note the others are drinking beer: Heineken. I'm not into beer, but I understand that Heineken isn't half bad. Sam says American beer tastes "like pisswater", and that's saying something from a guy who usually only buys things that are labelled "Made in the U.S.A.". I don't want to know how he figured out the taste. As for alcohol at a school gathering? Hey, Sam's old enough and the other two are adults. Xavier's School doesn't keep beer around, so one of them probably popped into town and picked some up for the party. Or, for all I know, Logan has a 'fridge in his room and keeps it stocked. I've seen him with a beer in his hand on more than one occasion.

"Hello, Kitty, Rogue."

"Hello, Professor." In stereo, no less. Great. Just freakin' great. I think we both feel a bit silly after that.

"Are you enjoying yourselves?"

"Ah'm havin' a good time, Professor."

"Meeting the new students, eating lots of food, sitting in the sun. Doesn't get much better than that, sir."

"Indeed, Kitty." He hesitates ever so slightly and his eyes shift almost imperceptivity to Mr. Summers. Rogue is busy with the tongs for the Caesar and Mr. Wagner moves to engage her in conversation. Interesting. I make a point of looking from the Professor to Mr. Summers, so they know that I've noticed.

"Everything okay, Professor?"

"Why do you ask, Kitty?"

_Because I'm not some baby just outta diapers_, I say - in my mind.

Which he can read. _Ugh._

"You guys have been doing that a lot today."

"What?"

I turn to look at Mr. Summers. "You and Ms. Munroe did it earlier, in your office."

"What did we do?"

"You know, that _look_. Like the look you just did here, with the Professor. Like something is going on."

"Nothing's going on, Kitty. It's just a barbeque."

_Too casual, Mr. Summers_, I say - in my - oh, forget it.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever."

The tongs are free now and I use them with controlled anger to pile Caesar salad on a plate woefully unprepared for my wrath.

I hear a snicker. "You're gonna bust it, girlie."

I send Logan a glare. Who does he think he is, anyway? "Stow it, bub," I hiss and walk quickly to the beverage table, feeling embarrassed and justified and - well, thirsty. I grab two Cokes just before someone grabs my arm and puts a hand on the small of my back. Logan starts steering me towards the kitchen door. I resist.

"Hey, let go."

"No."

"I'm eating here, you know."

"I know."

"Then let me go."

"Make me."

His face is hard. Something is wrong.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" I counter.

"Maybe. If you're a real good girl."

I phase out of his hold. He stops and spins, checking the garden with dark eyes to see if anyone is watching. No one seems to notice. The group at the buffet has reduced to Mr. Summers and Sam. The Professor has moved back towards the pool and Mr. Wagner is keeping Rogue occupied with a lively story about one of his adventures with the Munich Circus. Logan holds out his hand and appears to calm down instantly. I wish I could do that.

"Please."

That's all he says. One word. It says 'Trust me.' I don't, but what other choice do I have? Pout like a child? Make a scene? Run to someone else to help me deal with it? I look directly at the ruby glasses.

"Is this on the level?" I ask Mr. Summers.

"Yes." His voice is firm and a bit tense. I look at Sam, who nods.

I stare at Logan's large, rough hand as if it was the sharp edge of a weapon being offered instead of the hilt. I get a sense that it could cut me, and I'm not talking literally, with his claws. Matsushima would be proud of me right now, I think. I'm putting my spiritual awareness into words, thinking about what gestures mean and how they can affect me.

I tuck the Cokes under my right arm, the hand of which is still balancing my plate. Tentatively, I reach out with my left hand and place it in his. It closes around mine.

"I don't want to spill my salad," I say clearly.

"Understood."

He leads me to the kitchen door and we go inside. The air conditioning gives me goose bumps. I put my plate and the Cokes down on the island and wipe my hands on the front of my jeans. He isn't looking at me right now. He's at the sink, his hands gripping the stainless steel. He's staring out the window but I don't think he's seeing the view.

"So?" Logan doesn't respond. "Who are you, anyway?"

That gets his attention. He turns and leans his hips against the counter, his hands going out to grip the granite, as if he needs to brace himself. His muscles are tight, his breathing is irregular. Slowly, he lifts his head to look at me with bright, dark eyes. I swallow thickly. He's beautiful.

And terrifying.

"I don't know who I am," he says quietly, and I know it's taking effort for him to maintain control. "I don't know if anyone knows who I am"

I blink. "You know Japanese?"

His eyes narrow. "_You_ know Japanese? "

"Are you a parrot? Yes, I know Japanese. I have a pen pal in Japan, Logan san. " I hope I'm addressing him correctly, though I'm not sure why I care. "I am not fluent, but I have some knowledge of the language."

There is a heavy silence that is louder than anything Siryn can produce.

"I didn't know you knew Japanese, Pryde."

"I get that. Why have you dragged me into the kitchen?"

"Because you should know."

"Know what?"

"You're smart. You've picked up on the undercurrent, and it's been decided that you should know."

"Look, if this is some kind of joke -"

"It's not a joke."

"You're scaring me," I manage, and close my mouth.

Logan's expression changes abruptly to concern.

"I don't mean to do that."

He moves towards me and I unconsciously take a step back and hit the island. He stops inches from me and reaches out slowly to touch my ponytail. My reddish-brown hair isn't the most brilliant colour in the world but he seems to find it fascinating.

"Red," he says softly.

I swallow, mesmerized by him, overwhelmed by his presence and what has yet to be said. "Pardon?"

He releases my hair and puts both hands on my shoulders. His gaze is so intense that I'm shaking.

"Kitty, we think we've found Jean."


	5. Chapter 5

May 6, 2006: Well, this is ready to post so I thought, why not:)

Please see Chapter One, Part One for the full statement regarding this story.

I will add that this story isn't likely to link Kitty romantically with anyone in particular. This story is more oriented to exploring Kitty Pryde, teenager and superhero, and attempting to make the comic book world seem plausible. Thanks for being patient with the story so far and I apologize if the number of characters gets confusing at all. 'Stream of consciousness' will do that to the author, too, lol... ;)

I will repeat that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)

I will also point out that this has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

My thanks to those who have read and those who have taken the time to review. It is greatly appreciated. :)

Special thanks to one person in particular who is graciously reading and reviewing despite the fact that she doesn't know the X-Men at all. :)

Excelsior!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Three: Part One**

**Waking Nightmare**

August 5, 2004, 7:02 PM

I am numb.

I am burning.

"Kitty, we think we've found Jean."

_Kitty, we think we've found Jean._

_Kitty, we think we've found Jean._

Logan grips my shoulders harder, perhaps in an effort to control my shaking. My knees are weak and I want to sit down, but that would mean the floor right now and I don't think I'd be able to get up again.

"Kitty, keep it together, kid."

"I'm not a kid," I mumble, staring straight ahead at the chest muscles I can see defined under his tank top. My brain tries to recall how all the muscles are connected, like an anatomy lesson, in a vain attempt to distract myself from Logan's news.

If I don't want to deal with something or I need to occupy my mind to stay awake, I tend to rely on my studies first. Often, I whip through the Periodic Table, and then I gnaw on the explanation of nuclear fission. I turn to hobbies next and name all the people who have ever been a member of the Avengers and the nature of their powers. This is closely followed by the names of the seven samurai - every interpretation - and all the movies connected with Jackie Chan. Next, I list all the characters in the entire series of 'Robotech' and how they are related to one another. When I'm desperate, I recall the names of the seven dwarves and Santa's reindeer.

I don't get far with my anatomy.

"Kitty!"

"Don't yell!" I yell. I glance up at him and figure I must look pretty pathetic. I lower my gaze to my sneakers. "I have a headache." _Don't whine, Pryde._ I don't want to depend on him to stop me from falling, but right now his hands seem to be all that's keeping me upright. I focus on the contact and try to draw strength from it.

"Kitty." Logan stops. "I ain't gonna hurt you. Stop shakin', girl." He moves his grip to my arms and lifts me onto a stool at the breakfast station. He props me there, moving my elbows to rest on the counter so I won't fall over. I let him do it, as if I'm a puppet and he has control of my strings. I'm aware he's getting a glass and going to the 'fridge. I hear ice clink into it from the dispenser on the door, hear water splashing against the ice. Silently, he hands it to me. The ice is cracking. I find the strength to close my hand around it. It's cold and it helps just to hold it, grounding me where the anatomy couldn't.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"No problem."

I take a sip. Some of it misses my mouth, but that's okay. It's only water. I'm still shaking and I have to focus to get it to stop. My head has gone from a Samba to a percussion convention. I use my free hand to massage my left temple.

"When?"

Pause.

"Two days ago."

I'm getting angry now. Something that's been building inside me, ever since the attack on the mansion, decides to release. I can see the mirrors in my nightmares and feel the eyes following me. _Anger, terror, guilt, regret, despair…_

"Why wasn't I told sooner?" I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't say anything. I take another sip of water. I try to calm myself and am strangely pleased when it doesn't work.

"Hello?" I say sarcastically, snapping my fingers in front of his face. I am completely out of my mind, doing stuff like that to one of the X-Men. Matsu would not be impressed. "Are you listening?"

He's looking at me intently again, in that scary way he did earlier. His nostrils flare.

"You haven't asked about her _body_," he says, eyes narrowing.

I return his expression. "That's _because_ she isn't _dead_."

"And how'd you know that?"

"Because I'm _psychic_?"

"Don't get flippant, Pryde. It doesn't suit you."

"So how come _you_ get to break the news to me? Did you get the short straw?"

His expression darkens. _Good move, Kitty. Anger someone with anger management problems._

"Xavier got in my head. Asked me to do it, on the patio just now. Decided not to argue."

_That must've been difficult for you_, I say - in my mind and he can't read it. Nyah, nyah. Oh, how mature.

"I see. And you've known this for two days?"

"You don't seem overjoyed that she's alive."

"I don't like your accusatory tone, mister." I poke a finger at his chest. You could bounce quarters off those muscles. "I'm not overjoyed because something's wrong, _very _wrong, and if you don't spill soon, I'll run outside and give the Professor a demonstration of how upset I am, in the middle of the 'Welcome to Xavier's' barbeque and in view of all the caterers, too! What is _wrong_ with you people?" I find my hand scrunching the fabric of his tank top and twisting. "Why wasn't I _told_?"

"You just were," he murmurs.

"And that's supposed to make it _better_?"

He eases himself back from me and perches on one of the other stools, but I don't let go of the fabric. It stretches between us. The tension in the air would need a chainsaw. A knife just wouldn't cut it. Did I pun again?

I slam down the water glass and miraculously it doesn't break.

"Bastard."

Logan reaches out to put a hand on me and I swat it away. Then I pull on his top and manage to dislodge him off the stool. A second of unbalance is all I need and I slap him on the shoulder. It feels very cathartic so I do it again and again and again. He's trying to restrain me but not directly trying to stop me from hitting him. I realize he doesn't want to hurt me and I feel empowered.

"Kitty, stop - Kitty, I know you're upset - Hey, that _hurts_, ya know! _Kitty!_"

He grabs my hips and lifts me from the stool. Now I can kick at his legs, too. He holds me tightly to him as he moves down the hall. It restricts my movements, so I bite the piece of flesh nearest to my mouth, which happens to be his shoulder. He roars and starts to jog and I stop biting and start screaming. My face is wet with tears by the time we reach the study, struggling through the door like a pair of wrestlers.

The Professor, Mr. Summers and Ms. Munroe are waiting for us, and I must say, they look very startled.

The Professor is probably the only one who knows how bad it is, and he _still_ looks startled.

"Why didn't you tell us?" My face is red, I can feel it, and I'm not speaking in a sensible or respectful tone. "You've known she's alive for _two days_!" I grunt and push against Logan's chest. I might as well have been trying to move a mountain. "After what we went through, after all she meant to the students, you couldn't at least let Peter and I know?"

"You mean, after what _you_ went through." Logan's voice is steady for someone who just carried a screaming teenager while running through halls filled with breakable objects. He's breathing a bit hard, but he hasn't reacted to when I kneed him in the groin. Tough guy. I'm still wriggling to get out of his grasp, wanting to be able to do so without phasing, like I'm trying to prove something.

"No, I mean 'we'! You were there! You know how frightening it was when they attacked! And then we spent two days in the woods being chased by soldiers. Peter and I were given the lead, but we _all_ took part in keeping us safe. The kids were super! We were a _team_, damn it! We were _X-Men_! We deserve to know these things!"

"Something isn't right, Kitty," Ms. Munroe begins.

"I know that!" I twist and try to see the mirror over the mantelpiece. "Turn!" I order Logan, like he's at my beck and call. He frowns but turns and I look into the mirror. Dr. Grey stares back at me, her expression sad.

"Go away!" I yell at her.

Logan moves his head so he can look in the mirror, too.

"What do you see, Pryde?"

"I see her! I've been seeing her for weeks! She won't leave me alone, even in my dreams! They won't leave me alone!"

"'She'?" Mr. Summers comes around the desk to stand beside us.

"'They'?" Ms. Munroe also joins our little group.

"Kitty." It's the Professor, his cultured voice quiet and calming. "Please, tell us."

_Everything?_ I ask - in my mind.

_Yes,_ the Professor replies in kind. _Everything, Kitty._

I sniff and move my right hand to wipe my face roughly. I blink at the four adults who are waiting for me to speak.

"She's _there_," I say, as if that tells them anything useful. I sigh. "Dr. Grey. She's in the mirror. _Every_ mirror. Looking back at me, in her black leather X-Men outfit. I think I'm losing my mind, but I really don't have time for that so I just try to ignore her, or at least, accept that she's haunting me for some reason, and get on with my life."

I look at each of them, starting and ending with the Professor. "Welcome to my waking nightmare."

It is very quiet in the study as we stand before the mirror. I know they can't see her, and I have no idea how I can fix it so they can. The Professor, who is still behind his desk, says, "I can see what you see, Kitty."

"Thank you, God," I mutter, relieved. The world's most powerful telepath: for once, I'm grateful he's inside my mind.

"Jean is… in the mirror?"

"No, Scott," the Professor tells him.

I turn my head to look at our mentor. Logan hasn't let me go, but somewhere during the conversation, I stopped wanting him to. Now he's carrying me, his hands under my butt. My legs are wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. He doesn't seem to mind.

"Yes she is," I say, confused. Didn't he just tell me he could see what I see?

"No, not really." The Professor operates his wheelchair to move towards the fireplace. "To be brief, it would seem that Dr. Grey - _Jean_ - has undergone a phenomenal change and entered a stage of her own evolution that none of us could predict." He stops beside us and I frown at him. He smiles slightly. "I promise I will go into more detail later. For now, understand this: she isn't in the mirror, Kitty. You see her there because of… traces that remain."

"Traces?" Logan looks at me and I turn my head to look back at him.

"She isn't in the mirror," Ms. Munroe repeats. Understanding changes her voice and from the corner of my eye I can see her face. Her eyes widen. "She's -"

"In Kitty," Mr. Summers finishes.

"Something of her, yes." The Professor sighs. "I didn't sense it."

"You weren't lookin' there, Chuck," Logan says roughly, his gaze never leaving mine.

"This is weird," I say. "So, is she in my dreams, too? 'Cause if that's her, she has company."

"Your nightmares?" Sheepishly, I nod. I know the Professor is going to give me a lecture when all this is done. I was supposed to keep him informed if they didn't stop. "She could be, but I don't understand why there would be others present."

"My nightmares are full of mirrors and something… watching. Lots of somethings. I identify Dr. Grey with the fire that comes."

The Professor starts. I break eye contact with Logan and, for some reason, I ask, "What is Jack's mutant ability?"

Logan tightens his hold on me. "Who's Jack?" he growls.

"What does this have to do with Jean?" Figures Mr. Summers would be too caught up in the news to think outside the box.

Ms. Munroe answers Logan even though she's still looking in the mirror. "Jack is one of the new students, Logan. Jack Lainsbury."

The Professor has paled considerably.

"Amongst other things, he has the ability to use mirrors as portals, to travel from room to room in a house, for example."

"Through the looking glass," I say.

Then something clicks.

"Whatever happens, _don't_ let him use the mirror in Mr. Summer's office!"

"What?"

"Shut up, Scott," I snap. Why does my voice sound funny? "This is important." I focus on our mentor. "Whatever happens, Charles, do _not_ let that boy use the mirror in Scott's office!"

"Jean -?"

"Warn him. _Right now!_"

Why is it so hot in here?

"Calm down, darlin'." Logan sounds understandably concerned. Absently, I wonder when I went from 'kid' to 'darlin''. I look at his face, our eyes meet and he stops breathing.

"I _am_ calm, Logan. I'm serious. This is important. That mirror isn't safe." I turn my head to see Mr. Summers. Oddly, he stops breathing, too. "I'm sorry, Scott. I'm leading you on a merry chase, aren't I? I'm sure I'll see you soon." _What am I talking about?_

Logan starts breathing again, followed shortly by Mr. Summers, who has placed a hand on my shoulder. He's shaking. Before he can say anything, the Professor interrupts.

"Jean, tell us where you are and we'll come and bring you home."

"I don't know where I am." I find myself looking at the image of Dr. Grey in the mirror. "Oh, look. I'm Alice," I say, and pass out right there in Logan's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

May 8, 2006: Please see Chapter One, Part One for the full statement regarding this story.

I will repeat that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)

I will also point out that this has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault. Sentences with the "" bracketing it are spoken in a language other than English. I believe in this chapter, that's Japanese only.

My thanks to those who have read and those who have taken the time to review. It is greatly appreciated. J My apologies if I left anyone hanging by not posting the second part of this chapter on the weekend after posting the first part. Not trying to confuse you, folks. Honest. :)

Excelsior!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Three: Part Two**

**Waking Nightmare**

The air is cool and comfortable. It takes me a moment to realize I'm lying down. A blanket is covering me and I move my legs slightly, feel the cotton against my skin. There is something heavy and damp on my forehead: an ice pack, wrapped in what appears to be a kitchen dishtowel. It smells of soap. Wherever I am, it is very quiet.

"Kitty?"

A man is speaking. He's young and strong. I'm not sure if I want to respond to him. He has a nice voice and I recognize it but can't put a name to it. My body feels light and unburdened and if I speak to the voice…

He clears his throat. "Katya?"

I shift my legs again and frown. Why won't he leave me alone?

"I think she's waking up," the voice says, and someone else comes to stand beside me.

"Kitty?" It's a woman's voice, melodic, soothing. A gentle breeze stirs over me and I sigh. I stop frowning. I feel warm skin as someone reaches under the blanket and takes one of my hands. "If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand." It's an effort, but I squeeze. "She can hear me," the woman's voice says, full of relief. There is a collective murmur in the room and some whispering that I can't discern. _Discern._ Ooo, I think giddily, Hank would like _that_ word -

"Hey, babe." Another voice, female, younger, with an undercurrent of tangible fear. "You gave us a bit of a scare. Don't do that again, a'right?"

"Is she gonna be okay?" Hmm, same gender and about the same age, with an accent that reminds me of heat and magnolias.

"Here." Another man this time, rougher, older. I hear the rustle of clothing and a change in the movement of air around me as all but the first woman step back to let him through. A hand goes under my head, lifting it slightly, and a glass is put to my lips. _Water._ I swallow a few sips and find it refreshing. "Thata girl," he says. My head is lowered and he removes the ice pack. "Bobby?" he says to someone behind him. A few seconds later, a fresh, cold pack is on my forehead. It feels incredible. "Is that better, darlin'?"

I squeeze the woman's hand.

"She says 'yes'," the melodic voice announces.

"Kitty?" Yet another man, uncertain, familiar, longing. _Scott?_

"Do you remember what happened, Kitty?" This man is further away from me. He has an accent which is soothing to the ears. He is a man of many experiences - and, I somehow know, unable to use his legs. I focus on his voice. _It would be relaxing to listen to him read the telephone book…_

**What is a telephone book?**

_Get out of my head!_

**Why?**

_Leave me alone!_

**Why?**

_You're not Dr. Grey!_

**Oh, but I am, and so much more. Please, call me Jean…**

I scream.

Strong hands hold me down as my body arches up, like a jolt of electricity is coursing through me. I am numb.

I am burning.

I open my eyes and it takes a minute to focus on the face inches from mine.

It's Logan.

"Maybe…" That took effort to say. Is that my voice? It's no more than a whisper. He gives me some more water. I try again. "Maybe… I'm not alone… in my head… anymore."

Logan stares at me as if he's trying to decide something then leans back, silent, staying in a crouch near my feet. Ms. Munroe smiles down at me. Her face is a mixture of concern and confusion. I try to smile back, not wanting her to worry.

"It's good to see you again," she says.

"Looks like… I didn't go far," I respond, noting I'm still in the study. In fact, I'm lying on the chaise, which is situated near the window that faces the back garden. It hurts to move my head but I tilt it a little to the right and strain my eyes so I can see everyone in the room. It's pretty crowded. I clear my throat. "What're you doing in here?" At least I can form a sentence now, even if I sound weak as a kitten. Kitten. Kitty. I sigh. Why do I keep punning? I must be alright, though, if I can notice stuff like that at a time like this.

"I felt it was necessary." The Professor steers his chair closer to the chaise, so I don't have to strain to look at him. "The magician has just arrived so the timing is excellent. Hank and Kurt are sorting out the hanging of the piñata and Sam has recruited Dani and Xi'an to organize a 'Getting to Know You' game." He smiles and I feel the warmth of his love for all his students tingle around me. "Ostensibly, we're inside to bring out a jungle gym I'd forgotten to have assembled for the party." He chuckles. It's a wonderful sound, comforting, like a hot chocolate on a chilly day. "Which wouldn't be so bad, really, if I actually _had_ a jungle gym to set up, but we'll figure something out, I'm sure."

"How many people does it take to carry a jungle gym?" Bobby grins at his posed joke. Rogue elbows him in the side, but he keeps grinning, regardless.

"Eight, it would appear." I include the Professor in the count, even though he probably wouldn't have carried anything. My mind is still a bit fuzzy and I find myself thinking about the strangest things, all with a rather skewed sense of priority. "We could use the training bars."

"Pardon?" The Professor is so polite. I love him like mad, more than my own father, I think.

"The training bars in the gym," I clarify. "Not the danger room stuff but the uneven bars and the parallel bars - oh! And the _scrambler_! That'd be _perfect_." The scrambler is an intricate, metal knot of climbing ladders that twists around itself and takes up an area about the size of the average two-car garage. It always reminds me of an illustration by Escher. "Wait, maybe we could just use the scrambler."

"That's a good idea," Ms. Munroe says. "How long would it take to dismantle and reassemble?"

"Too long," Mr. Summers says.

The Professor sighs. "If everyone here decides we should maintain the pretence of this equipment, I could ask Kurt if he can teleport it."

Ms. Munroe frowns. "I don't know if he can transport something that size." She's concerned, naturally, as we all would be, but I know she particularly likes him and has assumed responsibility for making him feel at home here. If there's anything more than friendship between them, I don't know about it. The grapevine is pretty reliable and it's hard to hide that kind of thing, especially when the mansion is full of mutants. Mr. Wagner still gives me the heebie-jeebies sometimes, though he's done nothing to cause any sort of alarm.

"He says he is willing to try," the Professor announces, always multi-tasking. How does he do that? I feel more like myself, though now I know I'm not going crazy, the real reason for my waking nightmares, such as I understand it, isn't much better.

"Could someone get my Caesar salad and Cokes from the kitchen, please?"

Ms. Munroe looks at Jubilee, who winks at me and leaves the study.

"We'll organize everyone around the magician and have the scrambler teleported behind the trees, near the woods on the east side." The Professor sounds confident that Mr. Wagner can do this as he glances around the room and makes a decision. "It would be helpful if some of you could be present for its arrival and actually carry it into the garden."

"I am a logical choice, then," Peter says. He steps beside the chaise and reaches out to grip my shoulder. It isn't a bear hug, but it'll do. "I'll see you later." It's a statement, not a question. I couldn't have better friends, you know. He leaves the room, smiling back at me.

"We'll give him a hand." Rogue tugs on Bobby's arm. He obviously doesn't want to go but then resigns himself to his fate, rolling his eyes as he's coaxed into the hallway. Jubilee returns with the rest of my dinner once they're through the door.

"Chinet rules," she says, hefting my salad. The plate is holding without any apparent strain. The same can't be said of me as I try to sit up. The Professor takes one of my arms and steadies me. I smile, not knowing how successful I am at conveying my thanks. With Ms. Munroe's help, I wriggle backwards until I'm against the rise of the chaise and pull my knees up. I hold out my hand and accept the plate. Suddenly, I'm ravenous and I stuff my face with Caesar like it's going to be taken away from me at any moment.

"Thanks," I mumble around the lettuce.

"No problem."

Ms. Munroe smoothly takes the cans of Coke from her. "Jubilee, could you go to the woods on the east side on the mansion and help with the scrambler?"

"That's a pretty heavy thing."

"Peter will take most of the weight," the Professor says. "He'll transform long enough to set it down on the other side of the trees then you'll all have a bit of a struggle to carry it a few inches for the sake of the caterers, at any rate. It will appear more convincing if several people seem to be required."

Jubilee turns to me. "Are you okay, babe?"

I pause in my chewing, my cheeks full and nod. I probably look like a chipmunk, gathering too many nuts for winter at one time.

She sighs dramatically. "I know when I'm not want-ed," she sing-songs and exits the room with a flourish, as if she were doing the tango or something. God, either she needs to get out more or I do. And though Batman rocks, the Robin motif in her wardrobe has gotta go. Mr. Summers follows and closes the door behind her.

Ms. Munroe places my cans on a side table, ignoring what they might do to the wood finish. She hesitates.

"Professor, perhaps I should supervise this… event. I could use the wind to assist Peter with the scrambler."

"Excellent idea." Our mentor smiles at her and gives a nod of thanks and dismissal. Sometimes I forget how quickly she can move when she really needs to get somewhere fast. We know she wants to help but also be there for Mr. Wagner. She knows that we know, but it isn't directly addressed. I get another warm fuzzy feeling.

Mr. Summers quietly lifts a magazine from the desk, removes the Cokes with his other hand, rubs the condensation off the wood table with the sleeve of his denim jacket, and puts down the magazine. The Cokes are now sitting on the latest news from the folks at Time-Life.

I keep chewing, trying to make the food in my mouth small enough to comfortably swallow so I can eat _more_. I need help. I sigh, not an easy thing to accomplish when you're only using your nose to breath. Boy, do I need help…

"Kitty?" I give the Professor a nod so he knows I'm listening. His wheelchair is still beside the top end of the chaise. Mr. Summers is standing next to him, further to the top, near the table. One of his hands is resting on the Professor's chair. Logan hasn't moved from his crouch at my feet. I feel like Camille.

"She's eatin', Chuck."

"She can listen," Mr. Summers counters, and they glare at one another.

I huff and swallow sufficiently to say, "Oh, stop that."

They both look at me and I suddenly find something fascinating in my salad.

The Professor smiles. I swallow some more. At this moment, it's the most amazing food I've ever eaten.

"Sometimes the testosterone level gets a little high, you know?" I say shyly.

"Indeed."

"About Dr. Grey -"

I recall the voice in my head. _Please, call me Jean…_

"About… _Jean_." That gets their attention. I risk a glance from my salad to know they're all waiting for me to say something, anything, about their cherished missing X-Man. "She… she isn't inside my head, really, is she?"

"As near as I can tell, there are traces of her in you from your years at the school." The Professor sighs, again. I feel sorry for him. He really didn't know, but then, I didn't understand it either. A fine Sherlock Holmes I'd be. "Between your sessions with her for academic studies and training of your mutant ability, you established a bond. Please understand that she has become very powerful. Somehow, wherever Jean is right now, she can recognize these traces and make…"

"A connection?" I offer, seeing he's having difficulty putting it into words. An interesting predicament for someone so eloquent, but then Dr. Grey was - _is_ - very special to him.

"Yes, Kitty, a connection." He frowns, and I know the Lecture: Part One is about to begin. "If she has been in your dreams and haunting you, as you put it, in the mirror when you're awake, why haven't you told me?"

"You've had a lot of stuff on your mind," I say, pushing the last crouton around my plate. "Especially with Dr. McTaggart and Mr. Braddock wanting you to take on some new students and all." I nail the crouton with my fork and triumphantly place it in my mouth. These things are _so_ good. "Besides, I thought I was just grieving, like everybody else, like who wouldn't be? She just didn't go away and I got busy with assignments and stuff." _Hmmm, that sounds lame, Pryde. Must be your day for it._

"You should have said something," Mr. Summers admonishes.

"Well, I didn't," I say, a bit sharply. "Let's move on, shall we?" Before anyone can respond to my attitude, I add, "What I _really_ want to know is, if Jean really _is_ alive somewhere and using her telepathic abilities to directly attempt some form of communication with someone: why _me_?"

"I don't know, Kitty."

"She's taught lots of students here," I continue, reaching for one of the Cokes and snapping the tab. "She's known some longer than she's known me. Never mind the students, what about Mr. Summers? Or you? Or Dr. McCoy? She's known you guys for how long? Ever? I don't get it." I tilt my head back and guzzle the Coke like I've been in the desert for days.

"I don't have the answers, Kitty," the Professor says distractedly as I finish the can, crush it and grace them with a loud belch. I feel myself blushing.

"Um, sorry. I was thirsty."

Logan chuckles. "Don't worry on my account, darlin'."

"I assure you, Kitty, it is no reflection on your character."

_Reflection…_

"_Mirrors!"_ I leap to my feet, throwing plate, blanket and can to the floor. "Have you warned him about the mirror?"

"Jack? Yes. While you were unconscious, Ororo and Scott went to get the others and took the opportunity to draw him aside and tell him not to use the mirror in Scott's office." The Professor leans back in his wheelchair. "So, you remember that part?"

I blink and sit down on the edge of the chaise. "Shouldn't I?"

"_Jean_ gave us the warning," Mr. Summers says quietly. He hesitates. "When you looked at me -"

"When you looked at _us_," Logan corrects him.

"Your eyes were -"

"_Hers."_

Oh.

Oh, my.

I clear my throat. It's dry. I reach for my other Coke and Logan is already handing it to me, opened. When did he move?

"That's why my voice sounded funny," I muse aloud, and take the Coke, too dazed to do more than nod thanks. Logan decides to sit beside me and places an arm around my shoulders. It's heavy. He's generating enough personal body heat to instantly melt snow.

"We have a lot of unanswered questions." Mr. Summers states the obvious but I know why he says it. He's hoping someone in the room will contradict him and free him from his personal Hell without Jean. _I'm thinking of her as 'Jean'._

_It's alright, Kitty. _Trust Charles Xavier to be reassuring._  
_

_Should I be concerned that I seem to be able to communicate with you more easily than usual like this?_

_I don't think so, Kitty. I just means some barriers have been removed and smoothed the path, so to speak._

_As long as I don't turn into a telepath. No offence, Professor._

_None taken. I think you're safe from that fate, my dear…_

"I doubt there is anything we can do right now to get those answers, Scott," he says aloud. "We'll discuss the circumstances surrounding Dr. Grey and inquire about the mirror in Scott's office at another time. Do you feel well enough to join us, Kitty?"

I check. "Actually, yeah, I do."

"Then let's focus on this evening, and the fine barbeque we have organized for the latest arrivals at the school." He pauses and smiles. "Speaking of which, Mr. Wagner has successfully teleported the scrambler. I think we should make an appearance and do our best to enjoy ourselves. Shall we join the others at the east side of the mansion?"

I finish my second Coke in record time, maybe faster than the last. I crush the can and belch.

"Excuse me," I say daintily, and pick up the other can and my plate. Logan gets the blanket and folds it with military precision: creases of identical size and nice, sharp corners. He tosses it onto the bottom of the chaise, notices me watching him and smiles. It's blinding.

I start for the door, slowly at first so I don't fall over. Naturally, I stop before the fireplace and look into the mirror, leaning on the mantelpiece.

Dr. Grey stares back at me.

"Is she…?"

"Yes." I turn to Mr. Summers. "Touch the glass." He raises his hand then stops. I wish I could see his eyes. "It's safe," I add, though how I know this is beyond me. His hand continues to move toward the mirror. He can't see her, of course, and isn't sure where to put his fingers. "To the left," I whisper. He touches the image of Dr. Grey's - _Jean's_ - cheek. I gasp when she closes her eyes and smiles.

"Incredible." The Professor's voice is so quiet I nearly didn't hear him. Of course, he can see what I see. _I wish Scott could…_

"Don't move," I tell Mr. Summers, and sure enough, the image of Jean, red hair billowing behind her in a sudden gust of wind that isn't in the room, has raised her hand and places it over Scott's, where it still rests on her cheek. _I wish…_ "Professor…?"

I guess if the world's most powerful telepath can't do it, no one can. He doesn't let them down, however, as the expression on Scott's face tells me. The Professor is able to successfully place the image that he sees, through me, into Scott's mind. A single tear escapes the ruby-quartz glasses.

"Jean," he breathes. "I love you."

"I love you too, Scott." _Who said that?_ "I miss you."

Jean's lips are moving, but it's my voice - yet not my voice - providing the audio.

It's almost funny. I'm trapped in a dubbing booth, living the moment vicariously through somebody else. My voice is almost in synch with her lips. Reminds me why I didn't see 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' in any other format than with subtitles.

We stand like that for almost a minute. Mr. Summers breaks contact with the mirror and Dr. Grey lowers her arm. I'm gripping the mantle very tightly. To love someone so much that even evolution can't keep you apart. Wow.

"That was… surreal," I manage.

He swallows. "Thank you, Kitty, Charles." He doesn't call the Professor by his first name very often in front of others. I can count on one hand the number of times I've witnessed it.

"She doesn't look so sad anymore," I tell him, in my own voice, I'm relieved to hear. "Just so you know."

For the second time today, Mr. Summers pulls me into a hug. I hug back, despite being burdened with two crushed cans of Coke and a plate with remnants of dressing on it. With a pat on my shoulder, he pulls away and straightens his jacket. We share a smile and I head for the door again. I open it and step aside so the Professor can lead the way. Mr. Summers follows and I wait for Logan's booted feet to move. They don't, so I look up at him, one hand on the doorknob, the other loaded with garbage and my mind suddenly set on having more food.

His eyes stop me. They're dark and dangerous, and I know that sounds corny and very Mike Hammer, but that's the best I can do. Dangerous and so alone. Anguish. Longing. He reaches out slowly to touch my ponytail, just like he did earlier in the kitchen.

"Red," he says softly.

I know, mostly through the grapevine, that Logan was interested in Dr. Grey when he first came to Xavier's, but she was devoted to Mr. Summers and would never do anything to encourage him. It looks like he still has feelings for her, however, stoked at the back of the fire like hot coals, ready to burn. All you need is someone to place logs on it to start it blazing again.

I don't know what to say or do, so I look back at him and try not to make any sudden movements. That's what you do when you encounter a wild animal, right?

"Are you scared of me, Pryde?" His voice has an edge to it. It reminds me of Nick Fury's voice, the one he always seems to have when some on-the-scene reporter gets in his face as he tries to do S.H.I.E.L.D. business. CNN should get new staff before Fury sends them back to the station - in a box.

What do I say to this? Is it to test my courage? Is he trying to pay me back for kneeing him in the crotch? Is it because Jean loves Scott more than she could ever love him, and he knows it?

At least I'm not shaking.

"Yes." Might as well admit it. "Yes, I am scared of you. I'd be stupid not to be, though I don't know why you're trying so hard." I frown, not fully understanding my next impulse to speak. "We're your friends. _I'm_ your friend, Logan san. I will never knowingly hurt you."

His breathing has changed. He lets go of my ponytail and leaves. I watch his back as he heads away, wondering if we'll see him at the party later or if he's gone for the evening. I wish he'd stay, but there's nothing I can do about it. I close the door, walk down the hall and dump my trash in the garbage slot. Then I'm out the main entrance, hurrying around the east wing to where I know the others will be. I catch up with the Professor and Mr. Summers, who is keeping pace with the wheelchair, just before we reach the scrambler. My history teacher raises an eyebrow, silently asking about Logan. I shrug, not really wanting to go into it.

"We might see him later," I say vaguely. It's left that way.

Peter hasn't transformed into Colossus yet, but he's positioned at the centre of the equipment, ready. Bobby is posing like Mr. Universe and generally being a ham. Rogue and Jubilee are laughing. Ms. Munroe and Mr. Wagner are smiling at his hi-jinks, though I note the teleporter looks a bit weary. Everyone but Professor Xavier grabs a part of the scrambler, trying to distribute ourselves evenly so it looks like we're all lifting it.

"Now?" Peter asks.

"Anytime you're ready," the Professor answers, and my friend transforms into Colossus, the metal coiling up his body, a second skin that smothers him. He gains height, breadth and weight, and he was a big, healthy eighteen-year-old hunk to start with. The girls, including me, provide an appreciative sigh, just because we can and because it bugs Bobby.

"One -"

I brace myself against the pole, feeling ridiculous. As if I could ever lift anything remotely one hundredth the size of this thing. Maybe if I phased it, like I did that gun…

"Two -"

I wonder what the group on the other side of the trees will say when they see us trudging into view? At least Peter doesn't have to go very far before we can all set it down and he can return to his human form. I sense movement to my left as someone takes a spot ahead of me. It's Logan, muscles bulging as he grabs hold, bends and flexes, preparing to do some real lifting. I bet he can, too. I smile. He came back to us.

Thank you, God, for still listening to me.

"_Three!"_


	7. Chapter 7

May 21, 2006: Welcome back, True Believers! ;)

Please read the first post for the huge Author's Note, explaining most things that might matter to this story, lol! ;)

**I will repeat that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)**

I will also point out that this has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Four: Part One**

**What's Your Secret?**

August 5, 2004, 7:45 PM

The magician is just revealing the scarves she's changed into a pair of doves when we come around the corner.

Dr. McCoy and Sam are standing at the back of the group, applauding with the students as they watch the act, which everyone seems to be genuinely enjoying. The Professor wouldn't hire a _bad_ magician after all, would he? They're all facing away from us, but if you live at Xavier's, you're always on the alert. Sam spots us first. He's doing a casual surveillance of the grounds - I recognize it from the time when 'lights out' affected me and he was on floor patrol - and his eyes widen when he sees what we're carrying. Guess he wasn't in the loop about that. He says something that gets the attention of the good doctor, who turns his head and grins.

"Down." We all stop as Peter - _Colossus_ - clears the rise and finds sufficiently flat lawn on which to safely place the scrambler. The metal sinks into the ground a bit.

"Good?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Peter."

"My pleasure." Luckily, he transforms before anyone can notice he's reflecting the sun.

"Well done, everyone." The Professor manipulates his chair backwards so he can take in the location. Jubilee grabs the back of Bobby's t-shirt - which _does_ urge you to 'Just do it.' - and wipes her hands clean.

"Hey!"

"Chill, a'right? It's _black_. No one will care."

"Use your own next time."

Jubilee looks down at her bright yellow, designer shirt and arches an eyebrow. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Let's go see the magician, sugah." Bobby has no time to object as Rogue grabs his hand and drags him over to join the fun. I lose track of the others who are with us as my mind inexplicably focuses on only one objective: eat more food.

"Ready for dessert, babe?" Jubilee asks as we head for the patio and the buffet tables.

"Now _you're_ kidding _me_," I say, glad my jeans are forgiving as I wipe my hands on my butt. Figures the bottom part of the scrambler was a bit dusty. Not like housekeeping goes below basement level. At least the warm breeze has picked up and we should have great weather for a bonfire later. I can taste the s'mores now. "I'm starving. I want more Caesar salad and couscous."

"Don't know if they've still got them out."

"They'd better," I grumble. "Or it's clobberin' time."

"Have you been watching wrestling again?"

"Nah. The Thing was a guest judge on 'Iron Chef Europe' two nights ago."

"Ah."

The four ladies who are caterering the event graciously retrieve the salads I want from their spots inside a series of coolers. I challenge the capacity of Chinet plates once again, filling one with Caesar, one with couscous and one with potato and egg salad. I could eat it all and still want more. I say as much as we move towards the beverage table, Jubilee quite happy with the two chocolate éclairs she's scored.

"And die smiling, I suppose?"

"Why not?"

I select two Lime Cokes this time, for variety. I'm vaguely aware of two things: the magician is wrapping up her show and Jubilee is staring at me. I sigh and face her.

"What?"

"You're okay, right? I mean, I don't know the details of what happened or anything, and I don't need to know - not that I'm not curious - but you're gonna be alright, right?"

I smile. "I'm gonna be okay, Jubes," I say quietly. "Thanks."

"Hey," she says, grabbing a Pepsi and trying not to appear too sentimental, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"Right." We head towards one of the tables by the pool, as it's fairly close and we're fairly at capacity. Jubilee has my third plate but the two in my right hand are threatening to snap my wrist. We make it safely to the table and I promptly sit and start stuffing my face. I pause when I realize Jubilee hasn't touched her dessert.

"What?" I try to say, but my mouth is so full it comes out as, "Wumnph?"

"You're not -" She glances around then returns to me, looking concerned. The Professor is thanking the Amazing Veronica and Jubilee uses the applause to cover her next words. "You're not _pregnant_, are you, Kitty?"

I make a startled noise, glad Caesar dressing doesn't come out my nose. I shake my head vigorously. I can understand why she came to that conclusion, though. I've been distracted today, several teachers and the Professor have had a word with me this evening, and then I pass out in the study. Now I can't seem to eat enough. I focus on swallowing and finally vocalize my headshake.

"No," I say firmly. "Absolutely not."

"You're sure? Hey," she says, holding up a hand in her defense at my frown, "it isn't that I don't believe you. I'm your _friend_, remember? We covered that back at the pop bin? I just wanna be certain you've got all your bases covered, ya know?"

"I appreciate that," I say, "but I'm not pregnant." I stab a crouton and swish it around in some of the dressing. Oooey goooey goodness. "You know I'm still a virgin, Jubes," I whisper.

"Just thought I'd check," she whispers back, finally picking up one of her éclairs. "In case somethin' happened and I missed it."

"You're not likely to miss it." I crunch on my crouton: paradise.

Jack, Russell and Roberto have gravitated to our table: triple paradise.

"Did you know," I say, gesturing with my fork, "that your two names make up one cute terrier?"

"Yeah," Jack begins, sitting in one of the patio chairs.

"We know," Russell finishes, and leans his hip on the table.

"Angie pointed it out on the plane," Roberto adds and sits in the remaining chair at our table. He grins. "It made for great waves of laughter when we explained it to our neighbours."

"_And_ the flight attendants," Jack grumbles.

"It was fuckin' embarrassing."

"You said it."

"Fuckin' right."

Jubilee makes a sound like air suddenly leaving a beach ball.

So, Russell has a potty mouth. Better warn him now.

"Um, just so you know, words like that can't be used around the school, 'cause of the younger kids, you know?"

"Oh, I _see_," he says, exaggerating the delivery. Every part of his body language is serious, but his eyes send another message. "I'll try not to use the word 'embarrassing' again." He wiggles his eyebrows. Jack smacks him on the arm.

"You know what they're talking about, Russ." He looks around. The younger kids, who have had 'lights out' extended this evening, are now confirming with the Professor that they can go swimming.

"Only if you haven't had dessert," he says, and there's a mad rush for the pool. Pietro manages not to use his ability to speed passed the others as he races with several students for first use of the diving board. I'm proud of him. Once you realize you have the power to do something, a power most people don't have, it's hard not to use it - especially when you're thirteen and competitive with your twin sister. Iz Kawena, a boy from Hawaii, reaches the board first.

"Kowabunga, dude!" he cries, and does a cannonball jump.

Amazing how far water can travel when properly encouraged.

Jubilee shrieks. Russell sits very still and blinks as he drips, holding his now overflowing drink, his spiky hair flattened. Jack's eyes have disappeared behind his own soaked dark hair. Roberto has pushed back his chair and is standing, eyeing the diving board. Exclamations similar to Jubilee's can be heard around the pool, along with a few extensive, sputtering admonishments from Dr. McCoy, who is thoroughly drenched. If he wasn't using his holographic device, I'd see the blue fur, wet dog look. The image is too much and I succumb to the inevitable.

I laugh so hard I think I'm going to die. I fall out of my chair. Iz can't hear any of this, of course, 'cause he's still underwater. He could stay there forever because of his mutant ability, as far as I know, but with Mundanes about, he knows he can't. Besides, he's told me chlorine gives him an unpleasant buzz.

"It's not that funny, babe."

I look up at her and nearly choke. _It_ is _that funny_, I say - in my mind. I'm laughing so hard, it hurts. "It's-it's only water!" I manage. "You-you look like-like a -"

"Don't go there, girl friend." She's frowning, so I don't go there at all. I roll onto my back and let the rest of the laughter work its way out. I'm not the only one in stitches, I realize, as there's general amusement all around. I roll my head from side to side, taking in the mayhem, and note that Amara isn't laughing. Her expression seems to be one of disdain, as if letting kids play isn't acceptable behaviour, not dignified somehow. She didn't get splashed so what's her problem? Interesting.

I'm soaked, but I don't care. I could lie on the patio stones for hours in the sun. I close my eyes. Nice. Still hungry, though, so I'll have to move in a minute.

A shadow settles over me. I open my eyes in time to register Dr. McCoy's wicked grin, then I'm in the air and in the pool, glugging as I go under. That's what I get for laughing at one of the teachers. Before I break the surface, I see Iz's smiling face and point up, indicating he should make an appearance. He nods. He hasn't changed shape - which is wise, as even a baby orca whale would be noticed in an Olympic-sized pool - but his gills must be active. I can't see them from this angle. I hear a whoosh, followed by several others as bodies leap into the water. Through the rush of bubbles, I can tell not all of them are wearing bathing suits. One of them is Roberto, who obviously decided to try out the diving board himself and forego the use of swimwear. As for the others…

Well, I hope Russell's boots don't suffer from this experience.

Iz and I surface together and share a grin.

"Good cannonball," I say.

"Thanks," he replies and we do a high-five, which can be tricky when you're not standing on anything.

"Now how about a dive?" I challenge, going into swim instructor mode.

"You know I can dive."

"Then please, be an inspiration to all of us, and dive next time you get on the board."

He rolls his eyes and strikes out for the edge of the pool. "Oh-kay."

I was never that young - was I?

_And just when did I become 'old'?_

Russell sputters beside me, spitting out a stream of water like a cherub from a fountain.

"Hope your luggage didn't get lost at the airport."

He blinks at me, then rubs his eyes. The chlorine must sting. "Nope, though waiting for it took for fu- a very long time."

I smile my thanks at his avoidance of expletives and do the front crawl until I reach the stairs at the shallow end, where I gracefully emerge, as if it had been my intention to be thrown in the pool all along.

I will seek my revenge on the good doctor later.

I suddenly realize that in all the excitement resulting from Iz's enthusiastic display, no one's noticed the scrambler. Amazing. I pull the elastic out of my hair with one hand and point with the other saying loudly, "Hey! We brought up the jungle gym!"

It gets sufficient attention that people 'ooo' and 'ahhh' and some move towards it. Beside me, a voice states reverently, "That's no jungle gym; that's a space station." So Russell likes 'Star Wars'. Cool.

"It's a giant, bloody erector set, is what it is, mate," Jack says. I note his 'I'm not here' t-shirt is now almost transparent, proving that he certainly _is_ here. Nice view.

"I gotta change, babe." Jubilee's hairdo is ruined but she runs her fingers through it anyway. "Gonna get into my suit."

"Are you gonna swim this time or just lounge about like a lizard?"

We move toward the table, where I inspect my food. It got hit by some water but looks yummy anyway. I scrape what's left onto one plate and stick the empty plates underneath for support. Cramming the cold pop cans partially into a jean pocket on each hip, I grab my fork and resume eating as we head for the patio.

"I haven't decided yet," she replies and wrinkles her nose. "How can you eat that stuff? Doesn't it taste like pool chemicals?"

I'm watching the activity on the scrambler. Keisha has started to climb at one corner and Angie has started at the opposite end. Peter is there, talking to Rahne, Xi'an and some of the younger kids who haven't seen the scrambler before. Not everyone gets to play on it as it was truly intended. It builds dexterity and co-ordination and provides excellent practice for honing your skills.

And for learning to avoid mutant haters. Climbing has come in handy for me on more than one occasion. I think rescuing one of the Morlock children - a distinctively non-normal looking boy - from an angry group with baseball bats will always be in the lead, as far as saluting my training on the scrambler is concerned. Couldn't phase 'cause the little guy cancelled my powers: an interesting mutant ability. Drain pipes, roof tops and balconies were negotiated in the dark while he clung to my back, terrified. That was almost a year ago, when the poor kid had tried to reach Xavier's by himself and made the mistake of getting too close to a busy area. Good thing I was in town to pick up that Lila Chaney cd and followed the yelling - but that's another story.

"It tastes fine," I say between bites, then whisper, "We're being followed."

Jubilee glances over her shoulder. "So we are."

"Just going to get into some swim clothes, ducks," Jack says, having obviously heard us. He's wringing out his t-shirt. The rest of us do the same before entering the kitchen.

"See you later." Russell waves as they go up the back stairs. Jubilee and I shiver in the air conditioning and hurry up the main stairs to our rooms. She's sharing with Dani right now, but I actually don't have a roommate even though I do have two single beds. I shared with Wanda for a while - that was a trip - but when Alison joined us, she and Wanda became fast friends and wanted to be roomies. What a pair. Alison is young for twelve and Wanda is thirteen going on twenty-five. I didn't mind being abandoned. I think if I had to listen to any more Celtic-inspired music about death or stare at posters of Goth girls that look like Wanda, I would've asked if the storage room was free. An influx of students has changed my solitary life, of course, but I don't know the identity of the person I'll be sharing with yet. With my luck, it'll be Amara. Don't know why I say that. After all, I don't even know her. Maybe she just needs a friend.

I close my door and lock it, tossing the empty plates and fork in my garbage can. That was yummy. It isn't hot up here now, and it's blessedly quiet. I place the Lime Cokes in my cooler and pull my t-shirt over my head. My wet jeans require a bit more effort and I struggle to remain upright while I wrestle them off. I drape them over the back of my office chair, knowing they'll take forever to dry that way. Maybe I'll visit the laundry room later tonight. The underwear and bra go into my laundry basket. Nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere: no one can look in your windows. I stand naked but for the One Ring around my neck, debating between a one piece or a bikini.

_Kitty?_

I know he's not here, but I instinctively cross my arms over my breasts anyway.

_Yes, Professor?_

_I apologize if I've startled you. I just wanted to see how you were faring._

I choose the bikini. It's a dark blue, my favourite colour. I hardly ever wear it but I'm feeling bold today.

_I'm okay, thanks, Professor._

_Unfortunately, we do need to continue our earlier meeting, and discuss a few other issues that have come to my attention._ He must've sensed my disappointment. _But not tonight, Kitty. My study, tomorrow after breakfast, if that's convenient?_

_Of course, Professor._

_See you back at the pool, then._

_Yeah, see ya._

The bikini has a proper butt, unlike some folks who do the 'thong thing', and there's more material than token Band-Aids up top, but I still usually wear the one piece, and seeing so much of my skin is a bit weird. I look in my dresser mirror and see a young woman who is healthy and fit, completely decent and has nothing to be ashamed of - and a ghost image of Dr. Grey, staring back at her. She looks… pensive.

Professor Xavier and the amazing computer, Cerebro, have located enough 'traces' of her mutant DNA - unique in every last one of us - to believe that she's still out there, somewhere, whilst 'channeling' periodically through _me_, of all people.

_She's slumming._

No wonder she looks pensive.


	8. Chapter 8

May 21, 2006: And now for Part Two…

Please read the first post for the huge Author's Note, explaining most things that might matter to this story, lol! ;)

**I will repeat that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)**

I will also point out that this has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

Words bracketed by '/' are in another language. FFN doesn't like what I actually used the last few times so I've had to improvise. I hope it works…

And if you should lose track of which kid is which, don't worry about it. Stream of consciousness, go with the flow… :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is appreciated. Mari? This is so you don't get bored… ;)

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Four: Part Two**

**What's Your Secret?**

I fluff my wet hair and decide not to pull it back into a ponytail. I perform a quick check for unwanted body hair but that goop from the drug store really works and I haven't had to shave for almost two weeks. Sunscreen comes next, slathered everywhere for protection. Even though it's late, the sun still has the power to damage. Last thing I need is more freckles or a burn. My bath sheet is hanging on the back of my door and I wrap it around my waist, tucking it in so it won't fall off while I negotiate the stairs. It reaches my ankles, for which I'm eternally glad: it's cold in here. Must get outside. I wriggle my feet into my sandals, which I find under the dresser, put on a good layer of lip saver and head out the door, the One Ring bouncing against my skin as I walk -

- into Logan, who is standing outside my door, hand raised to knock. He steadies me before I can fall against the wall.

"Easy there, darlin'," he drawls. I don't seem to be 'kid' anymore. I'm not sure which I'm more comfortable with.

"Thanks," I say, closing my door and fiddling with my towel. It's perfectly secure, but I'm embarrassed to look at him. I want to get to the pool and play tag with the kids. Maybe the older group can set up water volleyball at one end and I can practice my spike: the pool is _huge_. I can guess why he's here, but I hope he doesn't ask me anything about Dr. Grey.

We stand there for about a minute. I can feel his body heat and wonder how he survives in the humid weather. I'm staring at his cowboy boots, worn brown leather but well maintained. He isn't saying anything, just breathing, apparently relaxed, which is more than I can say for myself. Finally, he speaks.

"/I apologize/" he says, quietly. Not quite what I feared. I slide my mind into Japanese.

"/For what/"

"/For scaring you./" I shrug. "/I do not want to scare you, Neko chan./" I look up at him when he says that. He just called me 'cat', as in 'Kitty', as if it were a translation of my name. He's looking back at me. I take a deep breath.

"/Apology accepted./" I poke him in the chest, like I did in the kitchen earlier, but I'm not serious this time. "Just don't make a habit of it, 'kay?"

He smiles, a nice smile, not scary at all.

"Deal."

"I owe you an apology, too."

His brow furrows in thought. "For what?"

"At the very least, for kneeing you in the crotch." I blush a little, knowing how much that part of the anatomy hurts. I'm ashamed I did that to him. It wasn't fair.

"Apology accepted."

"Thank you." I take a step to my left. "Coming back to the party?"

"In a bit," he says.

"See you later, then." I smile and head towards the stairs. Jubilee, who lives down the hall in the opposite direction, meets me at the main landing. Her red bikini is a bit more daring than mine and she's wearing a proper beach skirt made of semi-transparent floaty stuff in - what else? - red and yellow flowers. I think she picked out the fabric and pattern and Ms. Munroe made it for her. Her flip-flops and towel are red.

"You talkin' to yourself again?" she asks.

"No, I'm talking to -" But Logan isn't there when I turn back towards my room. That guy can really move, and quietly. "To… my giant, invisible friend, Harvey, the white rabbit." I pat the air above me and to the right. "Good bunny."

Jubilee looks at me, as if wondering whether or not she needs to get the Professor, then decides I'm joking. Guess she hasn't seen the movie.

"Well, lookin' good, babe," she comments, grabbing my towel and yanking it free.

"Hey!"

"Gotta show off those legs." She tries to drape the towel over my shoulder but I snatch it from her and start wrapping it around my waist again.

"Uh-uh," she says, and we have a short tug of war with my towel until someone clears their throat. We look down at the bottom of the stairs. It's Jack and Russell, the terrier twins.

"We, uh, came down the back stairs but you weren't in the kitchen -"

"Or at the pool so -"

"So we decided to come looking for you."

"Fuckin' A."

"Russell," I say, in a friendly, warning tone.

He spreads his arms, like a lawyer trying to convince the jury of his client's innocence. "Do you see any kids around here?"

I shake my head. "You're incorrigible."

"Yes," he agrees, nodding his head. "Yes, I am."

I fold my towel over my right arm. As Jubilee and I descend, I quickly take in what these lads from England consider to be pool attire. Russell is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of swim shorts, both in black. Must be his signature colour, if black is considered a colour. His feet are bare, trusting soul that he is, and a towel is draped around his neck like a scarf with one end flipped over the shoulder. It seems to have come from the same bin as Don Ho's wardrobe. He looks adorable. Jack is wearing a black tank top and black Speedo swim trunks that, of course, might as well be lycra briefs. He's wearing his sneakers, without socks, again. His towel has similar origins to Russell's, and he has it draped over one shoulder. I hope Jubilee isn't drooling too much or I might have to pretend I don't know her.

I give her a quick glance: never seen her before in my life.

"Shall we?" Russell holds his arm out to me a fraction of a second before Jack does. I link my arm through his and we proceed to the kitchen. I see Jack graciously accepting Jubilee's arm and she hasn't noticed a thing. Gold star for Hotboy - _Jack_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The scrambler is a big hit. Kids are hanging upside down and swinging around and challenging one another. Peter and Mr. Wagner are supervising. Roberto, still in wet clothes from his jaunt in the pool, is doing chin ups on one of the lower bars, with Siryn as a rapt audience. Keisha is standing at the top when we emerge from the kitchen and she waves to us. We wave back. I can't see Angie or Rahne or Xi'an. I do a quick survey of the pool area. Or Amara.

"Sorry, guys, but I'm still hungry."

I pull away from Russell and head for the dessert tables. Someone has switched on the faerie lights that are threaded around the porch posts and the paper lanterns glow along the beams. The garden floodlights have been activated, for security as well as party visibility and the torches have been lit. The lights are on around the pool, of course, including the ones under the water. It's approaching dusk, but you can still see without all the extra sources of light. It's beautiful. In about an hour, the sun will have completely set and the garden will be transformed into another world.

As I pile various tasty looking confections onto my plate, I consider two things. The first one is the idea of the garden becoming another world. It sets off distant bells of recognition that I can't identify. The second thing is the Professor's warning to the kids earlier, one I know very well, that you shouldn't go swimming until you've digested food for about an hour. I study my plate. My stomach growls. It feels like I haven't eaten for hours.

"What's up, babe?"

"There's just so much to choose from," I lie. "I want to eat it _all_." Hmmm, that's a third thing to think about, though: Why am I so hungry?

"Do what I do," she says and plates a couple more éclairs. "Stick with the really good stuff."

"Sound advice," says one of the terrier twins. Jack and Russell don't bother with plates. They each take a napkin and an éclair and start eating them voraciously. Russell finishes his first and raises his arms in what I take to be a victory pose.

"You win this time, young Jedi. Until we meet again," Jack tells his friend in a deep, menacing voice, reminding me a bit of Darth Vader. Guess he likes 'Star Wars', too. I take a bite of a butter tart and look over at him.

_Mistake._

Jack is licking the last of the cream from his lips and sucking the chocolate off his fingers. It's quite possibly the most erotic thing I've ever seen, not that I get out a lot, but… Then he sees me, watching him, and his eyes go very dark and gleam, like polished jet. I've seen those eyes before, but I don't know where, and it bothers me. He doesn't resemble the angel he reminded me of earlier anymore. He's a devil now, and he knows it.

_What's _your _secret?_ I ask - in my mind. I wonder if that'll be part of the 'Getting to Know You' game?

I look away. Angie, Rahne and Xi'an have returned to the garden, sporting various styles of summer clothing that might conceal swimwear. They're all carrying towels, anyway, so it's a good guess. Angie is wearing a t-shirt and shorts, both purple, with sandals to match. The white letters in a fancy script on the t-shirt ask: 'Pourquoi pas?' I don't have an answer to that one. The sentiment goes well with Bobby's t-shirt, though.

_Pourquoi pas? Just do it…_

Rahne is wearing a t-shirt that's too large for her and shapeless, lightweight track pants, both in grey. Her sneakers are also grey, but I think they used to be white. It isn't the most flattering ensemble I've ever seen but I'm sure she's comfortable.

Xi'an looks like she's been attacked by the promotions department of a sports competition. Her light blue cap is Nike with the swoosh, of course. Her golf shirt is also blue and has the Olympic logo above her left breast. Matching shorts complete the outfit, with the exception of the sneakers, which are high-end, shiny white Adidas that will make Pietro drool as soon as he sees them. For some reason, I remember from all the hype about the Athens games that the Vietnamese athletes will compete for the first time in rowing and canoeing. I wonder if she's a sports enthusiast or just enjoys looking like one.

I finish chewing my butter tart and start a conversation with Amara, of all people, who has appeared beside me, gazing at the desserts, wearing some sort of toga in white with a deep blue border and leather sandals. It suits her but this isn't a costume party. Whatever. "I don't think we've met," I say, swallowing the last of my tart and offering my free hand. She shakes it hesitantly. "I'm Kitty."

"I am Lady Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla." She has a nice voice, gentle yet firm. Appropriate for royalty, I guess. I can't figure out her accent, though if she's from Rome, I assume it's Italian.

"Wow." _Brilliant response, Pryde._ "You have a beautiful name. Mine is alarmingly short by comparison."

"It is not to be expected that everyone have such a responsibility."

"Responsibility?" I select a chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie from my plate and bite into it.

"Each of my names denotes an ancestor to whom I must strive to honour."

"Oh." I swallow and try not to be overwhelmed by such an ominous statement. "I was named after my grandmother," I say, keeping a straight face though I feel seriously out of my depth.

Amara looks at me with solemn, blue eyes. "You have been honoured, too, then."

Roberto is suddenly beside us, still wearing wet clothing.

"The Professor tells us you'll be able to introduce Lady Amara to the world of computers," he says smoothly. He smiles. "Lady Amara has not had the benefit of modern technology like most of us." _So, Lady Amara has a champion_, I say - in my mind. I decide the title fits, as 'puppy dog' doesn't, and wonder what these two have been through to create that bond. They exchange a glance and look at me, as if uncertain how to continue. As Fate would have it, they don't need to worry.

"If I can have everyone's attention, please." The Professor is beside the pool, near one of the security lights. "Your attention, please?"

Someone gives a sharp, loud whistle, like I can sort of do if I put two fingers in my mouth and blow. I trace it to Logan, who does it again for emphasis. He doesn't need to put any fingers in his mouth to get it right, though. The scrambler isn't abandoned but those playing on it perch, at attention. The kids in the pool swim to the edge and hang onto the side. I can see blurry legs under the water, kicking slowly behind them. We all calm down sufficiently that the Professor speaks, smiling as he takes in the sight of his teachers and students, gathered together before the start of another term.

"Thank you. I'd like to welcome all the new students to our school. We're like a family here, and be assured that questions, concerns and successes will receive an equal level of diligence and attention. But tonight, academics are not the focus. Tonight, I want you to relax in your new home. I will now ask Ms. Munroe to give a toast."

The goddess steps forward and faces everyone, raising her glass of lemonade. She provides a striking figure and reminds me of the Statue of Liberty. Something catches in my throat when I think of that, wondering how my grandmother, Katherine Prydeman, felt when she first saw the skyline of New York.

"To students and teachers, old and new, and those absent from our embrace."

There are murmurs around the garden as various salutes in different languages and at different volumes are heard.

"Thank you, Ororo." The Professor clears his throat. "Before we enjoy the piñata, Sam, Dani and Xi'an have been working on a 'Getting to Know You' game. Please indulge them, and don't forget the dessert table still has lots of food."

_Here it comes…_

"Okay, everybody," Sam says, and he's tall enough and loud enough to be impossible to ignore. Reminds me of a drill sergeant, albeit a relaxed one. "Ah'd like you to find three other people and form a group and find somewhere to sit. Let's go!" He claps his hands for emphasis. I catch snippets of conversation as Jubilee and I drift together in a sea of noise and bodies.

"Nice toast, 'roro," I hear Logan say to Ms. Munroe as she passes. "Way I like 'em: short an' sweet."

"Thank you, Logan."

"Can I be in your group, Roberto?"

"Of course, Siryn. I would be delighted." The giggle of a young girl.

"Ange! Over here, girl! We're with Mr. Wagner and Dr. McCoy."

"I'm coming! This is so exciting!"

"Sorry, Iz, you have to leave the pool."

"Dani!"

"It's only for a while."

"Oh-kay." The slosh of water on stone.

"Nice speech, Chuck. Way I like 'em: short an' sweet."

"Thank you, Logan."

"Rahne? Sugah, you're with Pietro an' Bobby an' me."

"That's vera kind o' you."

"Ray? Blink? You can hang upside down later."

"We're too old for games, Peter!"

"I'll be playing, too. Come down."

"Awww!"

"Come down. Now." The thud of bodies landing on the ground.

"Wanda?"

"Over here, Ali. _We_ get to meet _Russell_."

"That's not a big deal, you know, luv."

"Listen to Wanda. Stay here."

"Do you always talk about yourself in the third person, luv?"

"Wanda wants you here, too, Sarah - just don't summon your friend to join us. Wanda isn't in the mood right now."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

The splash of water.

"IZ!"

"Not me, Mr. Guthrie."

"Sorry, Iz. Kale! Frankie! Outta the pool!"

"Julie, if you let the grasshopper go, she can rejoin her family."

"I know, Ms. Munroe. I just wanted to say 'hello'."

"Would you like to be in our group? Xi'an will be with us."

"Okay. I just have to put her into the bushes, where she won't get stepped on."

"Of course."

"KALE!"

"Coming!"

The clatter of pop cans as some recycling is done.

"Jamie, why don't you come with us? I'm sure Amara would like to meet you."

"Sure, Mr. Summers."

"Only one of you though, please. The caterers are still here."

"Gotcha."

"'Bye, grasshopper."

"We need a forth. Karina? Are you with a group yet?"

"Uh, no…"

"Why don't you join Julie, Xi'an and myself?"

"Uh, sure, Ms. Munroe."

"I almost didn't see you, dear. You're blending in with the wall again."

"Uh, sorry."

There's a rush of colour as Kale and Frankie join Roberto and Siryn. Kale just has a stereotypical surfer's lack of wardrobe sense: is it clean? Doesn't have to match. Wonder if he dressed like that when he first walked on water in Baja, at San Miguel, I think it was. Frankie dresses almost as brightly as Jubilee - appropriate for someone who turns into some kind of exotic bird.

Ray and Blink, rarely apart, join Harley, who's chatting with Liz, as usual these days. Ray has a reptilian mutation that's always present in at least one way: his tongue is forked. He's very quiet in public. Blink doesn't know what sleep is, poor kid, but he can sure absorb a lot of television shows at the speed he changes the channel. Harley lives up to his name as his mutant power involves being able to repair anything with wheels. Neither the Professor nor his parents will let him have a hog until he turns eighteen, so for the next two years, he'll have to live with performing stunts on his tricked-out bike. No new student amongst them, but Liz is still fairly recent and her brother _is_ Brian Braddock, Mr. Super Dude over seas. As a low-level telepath, she intimidates some of the other students, but not Harley. Her purple hair is, apparently, natural.

I look around at who isn't in a group yet, as I've been too busy people watching with Jubilee to find a group myself. Other than Jubes and me, there's Sam, Dani, Peter and Logan. Oh, and Dave, who can paint with his fingers - _without_ any exterior source of paint - but he's about to be dragged out of the hammock by Sam. I don't count Professor Xavier, as he'll probably listen to the game but not directly participate. He's reaching for another glass of lemonade and smiling at the caterers. I wonder what they think of this school…

I've forgotten someone: Jack. Right. Why isn't he with a group yet? You'd think by now someone would've grabbed him -

Then I realize he's beside me, Jubilee's hand firmly around his wrist. He looks amused. She arches an eyebrow at me and says, "You thought I'd let Hotboy get away from us, babe?" Jack laughs at the name.

_I had hopes_, I say - in my mind. Something about him bugs me but I can't put my finger on it. I must still be spooked from the whole Dr. Grey experience in the study earlier. "Now we just need a fourth."

The words have barely left my mouth and Logan has joined our group.

"Guess I'll oblige," he drawls, but he's looking hard at Jack.

_Dear God, this is Kitty again. Can I please start this day over, from the beginning, just so I have a chance to get a grip on it? 'Cause right now, I feel like a snowball in Hell. When did I lose my ability to deal with my life? Hope you get back to me soon. Ping me! Love, Kitty._

"Great," I manage, giving a tight smile, and parking my butt on the ground near a torch. The others join me. I glance around the lawn and note Xavier's garden is populated with little powwows. How cute. I give myself a mental shake, wondering when I became quite so sarcastic about a harmless little barbeque. _Hold hands when you cross the road. Swim with a buddy. Always put things back where you find them. Play well with others..._

"Okay, people, listen up!"

We do. Once again, it's hard to ignore Sam.

"Dani, Xi'an an' me have decided we're all gonna get to know the people in our group." There are some murmurs which he silences with his hands. "Just general stuff, like where you're from and what your favourite type of ice cream is, you know? Then we'll each stand up and say something to the whole lotta us about someone in our group _other_ than ourselves." Sam frowns a bit. "Am ah clear on that? Dani?"

"You're clear, Sam," Dani says, stopping any doubts her friend might have about his presentation. Sam does like to get things right.

"It's just an icebreaker, folks, so ah won't be giving a quiz later, but see if you can retain somethin' about your new friends."

Jubilee and I exchange a glance that conveys several things. She's wondering why I wouldn't want Jack in our group. I shrug. We're wondering why Logan is eyeing Jack like he's trespassing on private property. We both shrug at that. I roll my eyes and lightly snap the top edge of my bikini bottoms. Jubilee nods. We want to go swimming, damn it. This game could take forever.

"So," Logan says, startling both of us back to the task at hand and turning a mild glare on Hotboy. "What's your favourite type of ice cream, Jack?"

_Dear God, where are you?_


	9. Chapter 9

**June 10, 2006:** My apologies for not posting sooner. My computer and the Internet - and FFN in particular - were not on speaking terms over the last few weeks. I think that's been resolved now. :)

**I will repeat that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)**

**And in case anyone was wondering…**

**I started reading the X-Men in the mid-eighties and stopped about ten years later. I collected the back issues as well and Kitty Pryde has always been a favourite. Chris Claremont might have overdone the angst sometimes with my beloved heroes, but he did the character of Kitty some justice. I was sorry she wasn't more featured in the movie adaptations. What has happened to her character since about halfway through 'Excalibur' is mostly unknown to me, but the animated series has created their own interpretation - not unlike what I'm doing here. ;)**

This has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

Words bracketed by '/' are in another language.

And if you should lose track of which kid is which, don't worry about it. Stream of consciousness, go with the flow… :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. I will remind folks that though I've said I've only written nine chapters, I have split them into two parts for posting on FFN. This means there are **eighteen chapters** in total to be posted. I hope to get back to this story soon and continue the adventure, as it is currently unfinished.

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Five: Part One**

**Waiting for Harvey**

August 5, 2004, 8:22 PM

Jack sits with his arms wrapped loosely around his knees and holds his ground, calmly replying, "Chocolate."

"Chocolate's good." Jubilee kneels, her flowery skirt surrounding her prettily like a wave of petunias. She's wary, not sure what to make of the situation. "I'll take Peanut Butter Ripple for five hundred, myself."

"Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough." I must stop grinding my teeth. "Logan? Since you so kindly got the ball rolling, what's _your_ favourite type of ice cream?" How I manage to say that brightly without sounding like Mrs. Brady may never be discovered.

"Rocky Road," he states clearly then glances at me. "I like pecans." _Make note of that, Pryde_, his eyes seem to say, mocking the whole 'Getting to Know You' experience. He returns his glare to the Brit.

Jubilee is twisting one corner of her towel around the fingers of her free hand. "Pecans are good."

"Nuts are a source of fat," Jack says evenly.

_Over to Logan._

"And protein."

_Volley to Jack._

"Protein is good."

I nudge Jubilee casually while straightening my towel. Maybe she'll get the message and stop being a parrot.

"So," I begin. "Where are you from, Jack?"

"England," he says flatly. _Great._ _Thanks for the head's up._ _I never would've figured that out_, I say - in my mind.

"It might be small on the map," I say diplomatically, "but I know there's a lot of different areas in England that you could be from." He doesn't respond but continues to stare at Logan, escalating the tension.

"Canada." Thanks, Logan, that narrows it down. Then again, he could be guessing for all I know. Details of his past are a mystery to everyone.

"Beverly Hills, California," Jubilee says chattily, deciding to ride her way through this rough patch the way she does her Literature classes: to quote her, 'Bamboozle 'em, baby.' "Though not the nine-oh-two-one-oh code. Palm trees, sunsunsun, and an endless variety of lip-gloss. After that, it was the Hollywood Mall, baby, in Los Angeles." Jack finally looks away from Logan to stare at her, obviously puzzled. If I didn't know the story, I would be, too. "Great shopping," she adds vaguely. I decide it's my turn, so Jubilee doesn't feel compelled to explain why she was living in a mall.

"Deerfield, Illinois. Small town. Cookie-cutter houses from the sixties, lawn gnomes, PTA meetings, you know?"

Logan's eyebrows rise toward his hairline. "'Lawn gnomes'?"

"Hey, _I_ didn't put them there, my Dad did. Must be a guy thing, 'cause the neighbourhood swarmed with them and it was one of those areas where the men did the mowing." My eyes shift between Logan and Jack as I add, "Sometimes the testosterone gets out of control and people do weird stuff, you know?"

_Chew on that, guys_, I say - in my mind.

Logan smiles. It could be perceived as scary, but I've _seen_ scary and know better.

"Glastonbury," Jack blurts, apparently relieved that the battle of wills has been interrupted. He sighs. "In Somerset. The West Country." He hesitates then decides he wants to share more details. "In a sixteenth century stone manse, with a view of the Somerset Levels and the Mendip Hills." I don't know what they look like, but I've seen documentaries on England and can imagine rolling green hills and so on. He certainly seems enthusiastic about it, but then, he obviously considers it 'home'. For me, that's Xavier's. "It's been in my family for generations."

"Cool," Jubilee says, meaning it.

"The floors are so uneven, a marble rolls along the planks without a push."

"I bet you've lost a lotta marbles."

"Yes, Kitty, I have."

That comment was a bit ambiguous, but I try not to examine it too closely and press onward.

"My house was boring by comparison, with beige walls and wall-to-wall carpeting and a view of the Johnson's laundry line and the Parker's pool, but my room was okay. Had to fight with my parents to let me paint it blue, though."

"You don't miss it, do you?"

Perceptive.

"Not one bit."

There's a lull in the conversation, which is more like loosely related statements than an actual conversation, really. I wonder how long Sam is going to give us before we have to do our presentations? _Please let us go swimming first, please, please, please…_

"I take it you like Tolkein," Jack says, nodding to where the One Ring is hanging just below my collarbone.

"I've been a fan for ages," I say. "You've read the books?"

"Oh, yes, and seen the movies." He sniffs. "Not bad, for Hollywood."

"The movies were _awesome_!" Jubilee likes this topic. We could be here for hours. "And the elf _totally_ rocked, though I'd've married Aragorn for stability, ya know? And who wants to live with someone prettier than you, anyway?"

"You lead a rich fantasy life, Jubes."

"This from the girl who talks to Harvey."

Jack blinks. I can tell he's running through the list of people he's met and coming up empty for 'Harvey'. "Who?"

"He's a giant, white rabbit, apparently."

"Really?"

"No," I say. I can't suppress a grin. _Change the topic or she'll reveal all your idiosyncrasies, Pryde…_ "What's your all-time favourite book, Logan?"

He looks a bit startled, like no one thought to ask him before because they didn't think he could read, or something. He shifts on the grass so he's half lying down, elbow on the ground, head propped up by a hand. I think he's giving himself time to think. I decide he probably has a lot of books to choose from, and finish my shortbread cookie.

"'Moby Dick'."

Jubilee swallows some of her éclair a bit sharply. "'Moby Dick'?"

Logan laughs. It's a genuine, deep sound, like hearing the rumble of an underground river.

"You were expecting 'Harry Potter'?"

"Nooo, just not a big fish story."

"And your favourite book would be?"

Jubilee appears to contemplate her other éclair. Bet she didn't expect Logan to ask her _that_.

"And _don't_ say 'Harry Potter'," I add in a tone that suggests I am eliminating her only choice. She sticks her tongue out at me.

"It's _five_ books so far, anyway."

"I… _sit_ corrected."

"I'll pick… 'The Bourne Supremacy'."

"Why?"

"Hey, I didn't ask you why you chose the whale tale."

Logan shrugs. "It's a classic struggle. You?"

"It's a movie, with Matt Damon, no less, so I thought I'd read the book."

Logan snorts at the mention of one of Jubilee's most loved actors. "The book came first, of course."

"I know _that_."

"So that's your favourite of all time?" he sounds sceptical, but in a kidding sort of way. No wonder these two get along.

"I'm reading it now and it's good. That's the best I can do. Jack?"

"'The Iliad'."

Jubilee looks blank. I step in. "Homer. Trojan War. Greek stuff." Still blank. I sigh. "You know, city at siege, wooden horse, thousands of people dying in horrific battles because some guy named Paris can't keep his pants -"

A light goes on. "Oh, you mean 'Troy'? That movie with Eric Bana?"

"Close enough." Someday, I'll strap Jubilee to a chair in the school's library and force her to read some of the classics that are _really_ classics. Homer would be as good a place to start as any.

"Well, that's an interesting choice," she says, trying to be polite.

"Why?" Logan asks.

Jack smiles. "It's one of the few pieces that are as close to a true historical account as we're going to get, I think." Enter 'classroom mode'. He must really like this subject. "It was written not long after the war actually occurred, relatively speaking for those times, considering the tradition of oral history, and I think the writing - in the translation I read, anyway - is beautiful."

"If there _was_ a Trojan War."

Jack frowns slightly. "I have it on good authority that the archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann found the remnants of Troy at a site in Turkey in the nineteenth century. He determined it was the seventh city down of nine built on top of one another. Writers and poets other than Homer documented the event. It's hard to miss a ten year nightmare."

"Fair 'nough. What about you, Pryde?"

"'Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There'."

Jack laughs. "Have you been asked this before or was that just an impulse response?"

I shrug. "It's my answer." I gaze longingly at the pool and the setting sun. _C'mon, Sam, give us a break._ I locate him near another one of the torches and focus on the back of his head. _If you're listening, God, you'll let us go swimming first, then finish the game…_

Sam stands and claps his hands, twice. "Alright, everybody, time for a break. Why don't ya'll get some refreshments an' take in the sunset an' the pool. We'll come back in about half an hour to forty-five minutes an' share what we've learned about each other."

Dani looks confused, like this wasn't part of the plan, but everyone starts getting up and stretching and heading for the dessert and beverage tables, chatting happily.

I swallow.

_God? Is that you?_

**Hello, Kitty…**

A rush of wind fills my ears and I'm burning.

_Dr. Grey?_ No response. _Jean?_

**That's better. Enjoy the pool.**

And she's gone.

I'm shaking. I think I've just channelled Jean Grey. Professor. Must find the Professor…

"C'mon." Jubilee takes my dessert plate and puts it on the grass. "We won't be long and if the ants reach it, Julie can tell us if they get a sugar buzz."

I follow Sam with my eyes as he walks with his group. Dave says something to him, and he smiles and nods. Everything seems fine. I turn to speak to Logan, not sure what I'll say but I don't get the chance.

"Come on!" My hands are grabbed by the other members of our group, Jubilee taking my right and Jack my left, and I'm hustled towards the pool. I manage to shake them off, assuring them that I come willingly. I reach the edge. The water is already churning with bobbing heads, as some of the kids didn't have to be told twice, but they've moved away from the deep end, knowing that should be kept free for the divers. I hold my breath and arc into the water.

I go deep, enjoying the sensation. It feels wonderful and cooling, even though the pool is heated. I stay under as long as I can - that's three minutes and twenty-two seconds, last count - and surface near the middle of the pool. Holding my breath is required for phasing, too, and I've been practicing, trying to extend it as long as possible. You never know when it might come in handy.

Jubilee did decide to swim, after all, and I watch her tread water beside Jack, who looks just as good wet as he does when he's dry. I chew on my bottom lip and drift in the opposite direction, towards the shallow end.

Rahne is no longer wearing her sweat pants and t-shirt. I think the blue one-piece flatters her. Rogue is in the water, looking very fashionable in a black swimsuit with long sleeves and gloves, trying to talk her down the steps. She's obviously nervous, but is sitting on the second step down, so the water is lapping around her thighs. Bobby is making pushing motions behind her back and some of the other guys are giving him the thumbs up.

The den mother in me reacts. I don't think it's a good idea. I think people's fears need to be respectfully addressed, and I can tell this isn't the time to put Rahne to the test. Not on her first day here, and not at a party full of people she doesn't know very well. Who knows what her mutant ability is, or how she'll react if she's startled? And the caterers are still here… At this point, my feet touch the bottom and I stride towards him to prevent any pushing from occurring. I don't want to yell across the pool, but I'm not moving as fast as I would like.

_Bobby Drake! Don't you dare!_

It takes me a few seconds to realize he's collapsed onto the stone, cringing, hands over his ears. I stop suddenly and the water wakes behind me, breaking over my hips like a wave on a rocky shore.

_Oh, shit._

Rogue and Kale are at his side but he's waving them away, looking around a bit wildly. Rahne, who would've been the victim of his mischief moments ago, is out of the water and meeting Dr. McCoy, who has hurried towards the pool. He probably saw it happen. Moves fast for a big guy.

"Bobby -"

"I'm fine, Rogue. Lemme alone!"

He stands and waits for the doctor, who arrives seconds later.

"Mr. Drake, are you -"

"Someone was in my head," Bobby tells him, quietly enough that there's no cause for alarm, but he's shaking. "A girl, in my head."

"Can you elaborate?" Sam has joined him and is looking worried but remains silent.

"Well, I was just going to push Rahne into the pool -"

"Hey!" Rogue puts a protective arm around the young redhead.

"I didn't mean any harm! And I didn't do it 'cause -"

"Someone made you stop." Dr. McCoy is _good_. My appreciation of his multiple degrees and legendary status as a member of the first X-Men team grows daily. "A voice, inside your head, forced you to stop."

"Yeah." Bobby shifts from one foot to another. "It hurt, too." He looks at Rahne. "I'm sorry."

"You dinna do anythin'."

"No, but I thought about it, and it probably wouldn't've been a good idea."

"Rahne's scared of water," Rogue says quietly, firmly. "Weren't you payin' attention durin' the group talk?"

"Duh," Pietro adds, suddenly part of the conversation. He's standing on the other side of Rahne, arms crossed over his chest, pale hair slicked back with water: a knight in shiny, silver Speedos. "It came right after 'What's your favourite thing to do?' under the heading 'What are you most afraid of?'" He sounds brave and puts on a good show, but I note he's standing out of Bobby's hitting range.

"Okay, alright, I'm a jerk. Get over it, Pete. I said I was sorry."

So, I was right. I could sense the girl's fear. The accusation comes: It's just a party; it would have been just a harmless little prank. Did I over-react? A better question might be: Was that _my_ voice inside his head? And if it was, how did I _do_ that?

Dr. McCoy waves Liz over: the only known telepath other than the Professor on the grounds. She walks, with grace and dignity, purple ponytail swinging, and stops beside him.

"Did you notice what Bobby was doing, dear?"

"You mean after he fell?" Her voice is very BBC World News. She would probably read the telephone book well, too.

"No, dear. Before he fell."

"Was he doing something interesting?" Liz looks around. "What did I miss?" Her confusion is genuine.

"Thank you, Liz." God, he's patient. He turns to Bobby. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just… I'm fine."

"Alright, then." He slaps the boy heartily across the shoulders, and somehow, Bobby manages not to fall for the second time in as many minutes. "Back to the party!" He and Sam return to the buffet. Pietro wisely makes himself scarce. Even with the caterers here, Bobby the Prankster will not be denied if given the opportunity.

I'm still standing in the shallow end, watching. _Our fears weren't covered in our group_, I think. Rogue probably came up with that question, having some major issues herself. Makes our stilted conversation about ice cream and books stupid by comparison.

_Smooth, Jean. That wasn't subtle at all. Not like what you did with Sam._

**There wasn't time for subtle, Kitty…**

Damn. She's still there.

_I'm going to enjoy the rest of the evening. Please don't intrude again, unless it's an emergency._

Silence.

I turn back to the deep end and disappear under the water, walking along the bottom near the edge. Thinking.


	10. Chapter 10

**June 10, 2006:** And here is Part Two of Chapter Five. :)

Please see previous disclaimers for details regarding this story, though I will repeat…

… **that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)**

This has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

Words bracketed by '/' are in another language.

Lots of kids in this chapter. You'll probably recognize some of them. Please don't worry about keeping track, though. It'll make your head hurt. It hurt **my** head while I wrote this story…;)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Five: Part Two**

**Waiting for Harvey**

The 'Getting to Know You' is going smoothly and everyone seems to be having fun. I admit I'm not paying a great deal of attention. My mind is somewhat… preoccupied. I automatically make mental notes as we progress through the groups, gathering snippets of stuff that I can think about later. Insects haven't compromised our dessert, as far as we can tell, anyway. I eat an Oreo cookie, without separating it, and try to relax. It's a beautiful night. The stars are out, the night is clear and the lights give the garden a wonderful feeling. It's still warm enough that I don't need to change out of my swimsuit. Maybe when we get ready for the bonfire, which has been announced as the activity to follow the glorious destruction of the piñata. I can't wait for the s'mores, but I don't dwell on it.

I'm being careful what I wish for now.

I haven't told anyone yet, about Jean and what happened with Sam and Bobby. I think the Professor suspects I'm somehow involved 'cause he was there for the possession or whatever it was in his study. Being a telepath, the alarm bells probably went off in that sector, too. I'm surprised Liz didn't catch anything but then it was very specific to certain individuals. I feel like such a freak right now. Ironic, really, when you think that to some people, I was already a freak.

Freak. Mutant. Aberration. Deviation from humanity.

_Here, KittyKittyKitty…_

The game continues.

"Karina likes cats and listening to Simon and Garfunkel." Xi'an sounds like she doesn't know Simon and Garfunkel from Abbott and Costello, but she's committed it to memory long enough for her report. "Her favourite colour is green."

"Julie likes nature and her favourite subject is biology." Karina can only be heard because Ms. Munroe encourages her to speak louder. "Julie's favourite colour is red."

"Xi'an is from Vietnam and she likes biology, too." Ms. Munroe beams. "Red is also her favourite colour." Julie giggles and smiles at Xi'an. Cool those two have something in common.

"Ms. Munroe loves plants and has her own garden on the roof." Julie sounds in awe of this fact. I know she sometimes helps Ms. Munroe water her babies. "Her favourite colour is blue."

No doubting what the consistent question with that group was. _My favourite colour is blue, too_, I think, absently aware that another group is doing their thing. I catch the highlights.

Alison clears her throat. "Sarah likes fantasy novels and anime. She wants to be a doctor."

"Alison's favourite singer is Amy Lee of Evanescence." Sarah grins and winks at her friend. "Someday, she'll be a famous singer, too."

"Russell is from London, England." Wanda savours the words. She's obviously pleased to be introducing him, as it were, to everyone else. "He likes skateboarding and listening to rock 'n' roll."

"Wanda is into Egyptology and reincarnation." I have no idea what the key questions were for this group. Russell doesn't seem to mind the lack of continuity. He doesn't look self-conscious, either, which is a neat trick when you're standing in front of people you've only just met in your swim trunks. "She wants _me_ to tell _you_ that you should close your windows tonight and put a bell beside your bed. She also reminds you to not point at the moon." He's grinning, taking it all in stride.

The fact that Wanda frequently tells us not to point at the moon will become evident after just a few days at Xavier's. I quickly run her warnings through my head, having gleaned enough of her magic stuff to take some note. Okay, pointing at the moon is bad luck. Closing our windows is to keep out any bad influences that use air as their medium. The sound of bells keeps away bad spirits. It's all _bad_. Sharing a room with her is something I don't really miss all that much.

I still have the brass bell she gave me for Christmas beside my bed, though.

Interesting that neither of us actually celebrate Christmas. Doesn't stop us from participating in the Secret Santa gift giving.

On and on it goes, fairly quickly 'cause I think some of us really want to beat the shit out of the piñata.

Jamie wishes he had a brother. That's precious, considering his mutant ability to duplicate himself. Amara has never left her home before going to England and coming here. She didn't like the flight over very much. Angie's full name is 'Angelina', but it's too long to say all the time and she loves chocolate and coffee. I smile. We'll get along fine. Keisha likes roller coasters and playing darts. Interesting.

Rogue doesn't mention Rahne's fear of water when their group presents.

"Rahne is from Scotland and likes t' read and go on long walks," she says instead.

Now it's our turn. We aren't the last group, but Sam's is the only one left once we're done. I decide to stand up first and get it over with.

"Jack is from Glastonbury, England," I say. "His favourite book is 'The Iliad'. His family has lived in a sixteenth century stone manse for generations. He's lost a lot of marbles on the slanted floors." I sit down.

Jack stands up, looking simultaneously innocent and yummy in his Speedos.

"Kitty is from Deerfield, Illinois," he begins. "She likes Tolkein but her favourite book is 'Through the Looking Glass' by Lewis Carroll. Her father decorated their lawn with gnomes." There is some laughter as he sits. Hey, if I can tell folks he's lost his marbles, he can mention the gnome population.

"Jubilation Lee is from Beverly Hills, California." Logan sounds amused. Jubilee doesn't use her full name often. "Her favourite book is 'The Bourne Supremacy'. She likes to go to the movies." I guess that's one way to sum up her understanding of the Trojan War.

"Logan is from Canada. His favourite book is 'Moby Dick. He doesn't think Matt Damon is a good actor." Logan chuckles.

None of us mention the ice cream.

Sam's group goes next. I know these people well, so it zips by: Sam's from Kentucky and likes ZZ Top; Dani is a native North American of the Cheyenne Nation and likes horses; Peter and Dave are both artists, but use different mediums. Peter is from Siberia and misses his family, especially his sister. Dave's family moved from their Toronto, Ontario apartment and left no forwarding address.

I can't help but wonder what the caterers make of all this. No mutant abilities mentioned, or anything, just a bunch of 'gifted youngsters' having a party. What gets back to the gossip circles in Salem Center? Don't get me wrong. These ladies have been super and the Professor has used them before, but you'd have to be dead not to be at least a little curious about this place. I don't blame them. I'll have to ask Stevie if she's heard anything when I go for my dance class on Tuesday.

"Alright, everybody, that was great! Now, Ah'd like ya'll to gather round the oak tree and we'll see who wants to take a turn at the piñata!"

Sam would've made a super town crier.

Dr. McCoy and Mr. Wagner did an excellent job of securing the poor piñata from one of the lower, strong limbs of the garden's largest oak tree. Even shorter folk like me have a chance to hit it. The tree is a favourite spot for reading and students and teachers alike often vie for a position under it. Thankfully, the trunk is huge and four people can sit, embraced by the roots, and have complete privacy. Most of us gather around, though a few return to the tables under the porch, looking for another Nanaimo square or whatever, or return to activities they were doing before the group event. I gaze up at our target. It isn't Magneto or any other member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, but that's okay. We'll save the Mannequinov Family anyway.

"So." Sam tests the weight of the staff we're using as a weapon and looks appraisingly at the crowd. "How do ya'll think we should determine who gets a first go?"

"We're gonna be blind-folded, right?"

"Right, Dave. And no -" He glances a the caterers "- funny stuff." No powers. No big surprise. No problem.

"How long do we get?" Pietro would ask that question.

"Each person gets one minute to try t' hit the piñata. The person with the most hits - and the person who finally breaks it, of course - is the winner. They gotta share the prize, though."

"What's inside?"

Sam smiles at Alison's curiosity. "Ya'll have t' find out."

Alison sighs. Nice try, kiddo. It's usually candy, but with this crowd, who knows what was chosen for the prize?

"Let one of the new kids go first," says Wanda, her eyes flicking to Russell.

"Okay. Fine by me. Nice, gesture, Wanda." Sam regards the students in question who are in the circle - and who will probably have serious jetlag tomorrow - and wonders how to fairly choose.

"Ladies first," Roberto says firmly and Jack and Russell nod in agreement.

"It's only right," Jack begins.

"They had to put up with us on the 'plane," Russell finishes. I wonder if they're going to do this tag-speaking thing a lot.

The four new girls look at one another. Amara isn't in the crowd, but over by the beverage table, talking to Ms. Munroe. Siryn and Frankie and Iz are in the pool. Ray, Blink and Harley went back to the scrambler and Liz is sitting daintily on a lawn chair, watching them show off. Peter, bless 'im, is keeping watch as they pretend to be members of the Cirque de Soleil. The event that triggered the den mother in me triggered something in him, too. Logan and Dr. McCoy are near the buffet having a chat, along with Mr. Wagner, who is also having another Heineken. Professor Xavier is speaking with the caterers, who look like they might be packing up soon. Of the X-Men, only Mr. Summers is with us at the piñata, and he's not participating.

"I think I'll pass," a Scottish brogue says shyly. I note Rahne isn't standing near Bobby and wonder if it's a coincidence.

"And me," Angie says. "I'll go later, if it is still alive."

I glance up at the giant burro, swaying slightly in the breeze from a rope. I don't know if Angie will have a second chance. Eyes glint around the circle. Too many off us want to hit something. That should worry me, but right now, I'm one of them. I wonder if anyone else recognizes this undercurrent of violence. I narrow it down to the real enthusiasts.

Rogue. Bobby. Pietro. Wanda. Keisha. Jack. Russell. Roberto. Dani. Sam.

Me.

Alison thinks it's fun, which it should be. The rest seem to agree with her. I can sense it all, those who want to play the game and those who want to vent. I take a deep breath and let it out. I refuse to let it overwhelm me. It's like when I knew Rahne was afraid of the water.

"Keisha?" It's Xi'an. Her voice helps me focus back on the piñata. "Why don't you go first?"

"Thank you," Keisha says in her lilting voice and accepts the offered staff. Dani blindfolds her, and then spins her around three times. Everyone else takes a step back, not wanting to accidentally be a target.

"Your minute starts… now." Sam pushes a button on his wristwatch - which is one of those amazing devices that can do any number of things, even underwater. The face of it glows faintly blue.

Keisha takes a few uncertain steps then starts swinging. She hits it the third time, but only a glancing blow. It's swinging a little so it's hard to hit, and blindfolded I don't know who among us could accurately judge where it would move next.

"Thirty seconds," Sam calls out. Keisha keeps swinging and manages another two hits, one denting the burro's side a little. When her time is up, she stands still until Dani has removed the blindfold. Scattered applause is acknowledged with a smile.

"You choose who's next," Dani tells her.

_Let one of the kids who wants some fun have a go_, I think. _Please?_

"Alison, girl, you wanted to know what's inside it." Keisha passes the staff to the excited teen. "Go for it." She takes the blindfold from Dani, tying it snugly over Alison's eyes. "One, two, three," she says as she spins her.

With our encouragement, Alison hits it twice but no damage is done. She blushes at Sam's praise.

"I guess I'll let one of the boys have a try," she says after and shyly passes the staff to Russell. He has to stoop down so she can tie on the blindfold.

"Cheers," he says brightly, and patiently waits for her to spin him.

"One, two three."

The last time I saw someone hit the mark with such deadly accuracy and force I was in the control booth of the Danger Room, watching Mr. Summers and Logan work out. Russell is so casual about it, effortless, that I immediately think he's cheating and using his mutant ability, which must be targeting. And strength. A large dent appears on the same side as where Keisha hit. Good thing the piñata is designed to last long.

Sam looks sharply at Mr. Summers, eyebrows raised, obviously wondering the same thing. Mr. Summers shakes his head: no. Others in the circle see the exchange, no doubt wondering what Russell's mutant ability is if it isn't _this_. For some reason, Sam turns to look at me next. What would I have to do with it? I shrug and do my best to scrunch up my face in a bewildered expression. Sam continues to look at me, hard. I don't think he's been told anything directly about… well, whatever you might want to call my situation, but he's put a few things together. He'll make a great leader someday. Hec, he's well on his way already.

They grow them smart in Kentucky.

I press my lips together and shake my head 'no', hoping that will reassure him.

He gives me a nod that he understands.

We both turn to watch Russell, slender, boyish, my-height Russell, pummel the crap out of the burro. He stops when his time is up though, and bows graciously to the applause.

"Very kind," he murmurs. "Lots of fun. Ta." He drops to one knee before a startled Dani and holds up the staff. "Your turn, my lady." Embarrassed but pleased, she takes the staff and has to stoop a bit so he can blindfold her. "One, two, three."

Dani has three hits and does some damage to one of the back legs. The crowd cheers. She chooses Wanda, who doesn't hit it at all. Everyone is nice about it, though. A shame, really, when I know she desperately needs to find some release. I think again of her warnings and wonder how much she knows about the approaching evil. Kale is next and he hits it a few times but he isn't serious about it. He gives a goofy smile to the crowd and accepts the slap on the back from Bobby graciously.

Pietro, however, is very serious, and manages to take more swings in one minute than anyone so far, and without using his mutant ability for speed. He makes five hits and expands Dani's damage a bit. Lots of admiration, especially from Rahne, I note. He gives the staff to Sarah, who is secretly sweet on him, and she hits it more times than he does. Whoops all around. The burro is looking decidedly unwell.

That's when I see it: a flash of white. I turn and quickly scan the trees nearby.

Karina can't stop laughing to really try very hard. This is fun, this is fun… She hits it anyway and is delighted. Julie is next. She nearly takes out Sam, but when redirected by Russell, hits the burro and it almost breaks.

There it is again. Something white is moving erratically through the trees to my right, roughly heading towards the front of the mansion. It's some sort of animal, I think, but too big to be a raccoon, and they don't usually come in that colour. Damn it. The piñata can wait until I've figured this out.

"Watcha doin'?" It's Jubilee, who has noticed that my focus is elsewhere.

"Waiting for Harvey," I say cryptically.

"What?"

"Waiting for Harvey."

"I heard you, babe, I just don't get it." A cheer goes up as Angie gets her chance after all and makes her mark.

"A giant, white rabbit." I say each word clearly, as if I were addressing someone with a bad cell 'phone connection.

"I thought he was invisible," she jokes.

"So did I." I'm not joking. Something is wrong, I can feel it.

Why can't I have one normal day?

Jamie hopes to be the winner and is very careful with his swings. He hits it a few times and that one side is definitely going to give. I'm looking toward the scrambler now, to see if Peter or any of the others are watching something in the trees. They seem oblivious to anything unusual. If Mr. Summers has noticed my distraction, he isn't saying anything.

There's a tap on my arm. I look down at the staff then up at the person holding it.

"Hey." It's Jamie, frustrated but smiling. "Sam says you haven't had your turn."

"Sure, thanks," I mutter and he blindfolds me.

The garden is a dark, eerie place, full of whispers and titters and creaking branches. The oak is listening and the lines between our world and another are blurred.

"One, two three."

I have no idea where the piñata is. I stand and listen.

"Thirty seconds," Sam calls out.

_There._ I strike and a cheer goes up in the circle. Lots of tiny things hit me on the head and snarl in my hair with sharp fingers. I tear off the blindfold and pull free a few colourful wrappers: candy. The ground is swamped with it. Ah, tradition…

"Sorry, Jubes," I say, passing the staff back to Sam. "I guess you won't get a chance at it."

"No problem, babe," she says, and winks, hefting her towel full of candy. "The boys might wanna have a chat with you, though." She laughs as she heads for the patio.

I look over at Bobby and Jack, who are watching the others gather the candy. Their faces share an expression of muted sorrow that they didn't even get a swing at it. Mr. Summers is directing eager students, their t-shirts and towels loaded with candy, to a large urn on the patio, where the treasure is being deposited. The happy chatter echoes in the garden.

"Sorry," I say to Jack and Bobby, who shrug and say things like "Don't worry about it" and "We all get to eat the candy, anyway" and so on, but I'm not paying a lot of attention. They drift towards the patio. I note Jack keeps looking over his shoulder at me.

"Kitty?"

I can hear Sam's voice but my mind is drifting as I consider what remains of the burro. One side is completely caved in and two legs have already come free and lie on the ground. It stares at me with an agonized face.

It's still alive.

_Shit._

I grab the staff from a startled Sam and take a leap at the burro's head, swinging hard. The head snaps clean off and finally, there is peace. I remain in a crouch where I land, my breathing becoming more even as the wave of pain recedes.

Sam is right beside me, tense, scanning the trees like I was earlier.

"Kitty?" Sam speaks in a low voice.

"Something's wrong," I say, not sure how to explain it or where to begin. "Somewhere, somehow, I could feel that the burro was still alive and desperate to be released." I shake my head and stand. "Only it wasn't the piñata I was sensing. It was something linked to it. Something in the garden - in _another_ garden, like this one - only they, the people there, weren't playing a game. They were hurting something - someone." I sigh and say, "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

Sam stares down at me, quite serious and ready to understand. "Ah think it's been one o' those days, Kitty. You're talkin' about some kinda… parallel universe or alternate dimension, which isn't such a nice place, I gather." His lips tighten. "An' you don't have psychic abilities, but Dr. Grey did, an' ah trusted her implicitly. If you say somethin' ain't right, then it ain't right, an' we have t' fix it."

"You know," I say softly, smiling up at this tall, confident sergeant with a buzz cut, who used to be a tall drink of water with a buzz cut. "It's moments like this that remind me why I like you, Samuel Guthrie."

He smiles, then states, "We should get the Professor."

"Might not be a bad idea."

"Ah'll have ask Dr. McCoy if he can help Dani an' the others set up the bonfire." He frowns slightly. "If you think we should still have one, considerin' what you're pickin' up."

I spin the staff in a manner that isn't mine, and say quietly, "I can taste the s'mores already."


	11. Chapter 11

**June 25, 2006:** And here is Part One of Chapter Six. :)

Please see previous disclaimers for details regarding this story, though I will repeat…

… **that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)**

This has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

Words bracketed by '/' are in another language.

There are still a lot of students in this chapter. Don't worry if you get lost when a bunch of them are talking, though I've set up '…' after each segment to help determine that a different group is speaking now. You'll see what I mean. :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. This chapter is a bit shorter, but that's just how the story worked.

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Six**

**Whole Enchilada**

August 5, 2004 9:45 PM

"So… that's it," I finish, rather lamely considering the nature of my presentation. "That's the whole enchilada." A fitting phrase, considering we've just destroyed a piñata. I should feel tired but I'm not. I have no idea where I'm getting all this energy. At least I don't feel so vulnerable anymore, the bikini having been replaced by my familiar old jeans with the hole in the right knee and my Superman t-shirt. I'm still wearing my sandals, though, a bit of summer I'm clinging to tonight. The caterers have left, so I'm glad I'm not hungry anymore. There are leftovers, and I know where they are if an emergency arises.

I've just covered the highlights of what I sensed during the destruction of the candy-filled burro with a select group, once more gathering in the study of Professor Charles Xavier. The strange event seems to tie in with what I - with what _Jean_ sensed about the mirror in the office of Mr. Summers. Oh, maybe we _both_ have our doubts about that mirror. Who knows? This led to an explanation about my 'connection' with Dr. Grey for those who weren't in the study earlier.

Bobby won't look at me. After an initial horrified stare, he couldn't deal with me being in his head, I guess. It's not like I intended to do it, or found out anything interesting while I was there. Whatever. I'm a bit overwhelmed, though I try not to show it, and I can't handle his pain as well. At least Sam isn't behaving like he's been violated. It's all Jean's fault. Well, she read my mind and took matters into her own hands, so I'm not gonna analyze it beyond that, not now, not yet. Jean's fault.

_If Jean really is still out there…_

I can't properly express how pleased I am to be included in this meeting, not that I have much choice since I am kinda the focus here. However, certain members of the student body have also been included, and I smile in spite of the unusual circumstances.

Amazingly, it's only taken about fifteen minutes, including some questions. I knew the X-Men were efficient but… whoa.

"Freaky," Jubilee murmurs.

"You're telling _me_?"

"Does this… connection with Dr. Grey hurt Kitty in any way?"

Oh, I _do_ think you're sweet, Peter.

"Not as far as we can tell." The Professor frowns. "Unfortunately, I'm having difficulty finding out any information regarding their ability to communicate, beyond the fact the Dr. Grey is a telepath and telekinetic with latent strength, it would appear." He sighs. I know how he feels. It's been a long day. "Jean seems to have evolved to another level of existence, her mutant abilities having been forced to progress beyond what she may have accomplished in her entire life if not provoked. We think the trigger was the situation at Alkali Lake."

Silence. No doubt, each of us is dealing with the news the best we can, with varying degrees of pain.

_Jean…_

"Ah have a question."

"Yes, Sam?"

"If this mirror somehow belongs to the… other world Kitty experienced in the garden, does that mean it's some sort of portal? An' if so, should we destroy it?"

"We don't understand the part it has to play in this yet." Mr. Summers straightens. "We could be acting too quickly and perhaps seal a path we have to this world. If they can come here, we might need it to go_ there_ if we have to confront whatever it is they're doing."

That sounded good, if a bit convoluted, but a trickle of concern creeps through: he saw Jean in a mirror. Jean touched his hand in a mirror. Damage any of the mansion's mirrors -

"- the white thing in the woods?"

I start when I realize everyone is looking at me. I've just been asked a question. I feel myself flush slightly.

"Um, sorry, Rogue. What was that?"

"What was the white thing in the woods, again?"

I sigh. "A rabbit." Jubilee snorts. Almost everyone looks at her. She shrugs.

"Hey, I didn't name it 'Harvey'. She came up with that all by herself."

"It's a movie, actually," I clarify. "I borrowed the name."

"Is it some sort of spirit, perhaps?" Dani hasn't said much until now. I understand a spirit bear had something to do with the death of her parents and she believes it's hunting her. I shiver.

"'A Midsummer Night's Dream'," comes a quiet, accented voice from the corner. Well, the upper corner of the study, where Mr. Wagner is sitting on top of a bookshelf. He's a bit hunched, but seems comfortable and perfectly balanced. He's still using his holographic device and resembles how I envision a gypsy prince should look, only in jeans and a navy cotton shirt. I don't know very much German, oddly enough, since I'm sufficiently proficient in French and Japanese to converse if things don't go by too rapidly. My Polish isn't much better, either, which is a shame as I learned a bit of both when I was little. I wanted to be able to communicate with my grandmother in her native language, though my father wasn't fond of the idea. Foolish man. Deny your heritage and you deny who you are, I say. Problem is, I haven't spoken either language in a while. I'm trying to remember the German word for 'friend'. _Ah._

"Where the faerie realm crosses over into the human realm, mein freund," I muse aloud.

Mr. Wagner smiles down at me. It's a nice smile, really. He seems shy right now, yet other times he's so exuberant. He's been through a lot, I gather. I thought I had it rough when I had acne until I met him. Being blue and resembling a demon must be wearing on his soul.

"I've seen that play," Ms. Munroe says, thoughtful. "And I don't recall any rabbits or piñatas."

"It's a rough analogy, not an exact one, I think," the Professor says.

Bobby raises his hand. It's a habit he seems to have when in a gathering, but oddly, he never uses it when he's in class.

"Uh, question? What was the piñata, then, if it wasn't a piñata?" I think he's skeptical about the whole thing but trying to be game and follow events.

"Here, it was just a piñata. There, it was… something else. I don't know. But whatever it was, it's dead now and not suffering anymore."

"So we killed it?" Rogue asks quietly.

"I put it out of its misery. Someone else started the torture. That much I can tell you. We aren't responsible for that death." Rogue still doesn't look happy. I don't blame her. I'm mad as hell.

Logan walks into the study without knocking, saying, "We got the bonfire started and Hank's gettin' the kids lined up with hot dogs and sticks."

"Thank you, Logan." The Professor sighs again. "I'm glad we can continue with the party, in spite of the situation. The students have been looking forward to this all summer, and the new arrivals deserve a happy welcome."

"Xi'an is helpin' direct traffic. She seems to be a good kid."

"She's eighteen and had younger siblings," Mr. Summers says. _Had._ Past tense. I wonder what happened to her family.

"Russell won't stop tellin' jokes," Logan grumbles and crosses his arms.

"Is something wrong with that, Logan? Are the jokes of a questionable nature?" Trust the Professor's gentle voice to smooth things out, like getting the carpet to fit right with furniture.

"No," he admits. "Somethin' about him just bugs me, is all." He frowns. "He smells… wrong."

The Professor sighs. I think he'll be doing that a lot for a while. "There hasn't been time to brief all of you about the new students, and we don't really have time right now. Suffice it to say that Russell Harker is a complicated young man, Logan. He probably 'smells wrong' because he's technically dead."

My head snaps up and most of the room exclaims, "_What?"_

"I want all of you to be vigilant tonight," our mentor continues, the topic of Russell apparently closed for discussion. "I don't want to alarm the others or cancel the festivities. Nothing has directly assaulted us yet. Except for Jean's contact with Kitty, of course." I notice Peter, Sam and Dani in particular frown at that and I feel protected. Despite having a mutant ability and being a brain and an independent young woman and all that, I like that I have friends who care about what happens to me. Anyone who would say otherwise is either oblivious, an idiot or both. It makes me feel warmer than my fuzzy bunny slippers. A frown forms on my face when I realize I can't recall when I last saw my fuzzy bunny slippers.

"Touch base with one another frequently, please. I leave it to your discretion to report anything you deem unusual." He looks around the room, giving anyone who has any questions an opportunity to speak.

Silence.

"I'll brief Hank and Logan," Scott says. Logan stiffens and darts a look in my direction. He knows some of what's going on, of course, but in helping with the bonfire, he missed some of the details. I stare at the hole in my jeans as if contemplating a repair job.

"Thank you, Scott." No one moves, though. "I suggest we hasten to the lake, lest all the hot dogs be gone before we arrive."

I smile. The Professor sometimes sounds like Dr. McCoy. Or is that the other way around?

"Alright, people. Let's move!"

Sam turns confidently for the door, having made this statement, and I smile when almost everyone follows him out. If he ever runs for President, I'll not only vote for him but avidly campaign and beg for a position in his government.

Mr. Summers and Logan look from the Professor to Mr. Wagner to me and to each other and leave when we don't make a move for the door. Their footsteps barely echo on the marble flooring.

"You must tell me the truth, Kitty." Part Two of the Lecture approaches. I brace myself. "Are you really feeling well enough to continue this evening, knowing that you might possibly have to be involved in whatever develops?"

"I think I have to be, Professor. But, yes," I rush on, wanting to reassure him and remove the concern from his face. "I'll be okay. It's weird and I wish I understood it all better than I do, but I'm okay. I promise I'll tell someone if I'm not." I smile, hoping he's convinced. I hope I'm convinced, too.

The Professor smiles back. "I'm sorry, Kitty." He leaves it at that, which is a good thing as far as I'm concerned. I didn't want to hear the man I respect and view as a father-figure say, "I guess you'll have to do some quick growing up, little girl."

"We will all look out for you, Katchen," Mr. Wagner states firmly. First Peter, now… Why are people using terms of endearment with me all of a sudden? 'Katya', 'Neko', 'Katchen'… I shake my head, bewildered but still having that fuzzy bunny slipper mood, and stand.

"Well, I don't want to miss my hot dog so -"

_Bamf!_

Mr. Wagner teleports from his perch and appears beside me, straightening. The smell of sulphur fills my nostrils and I try not to sneeze or flinch. I'm not used to this yet. He doesn't hang out with the students much, and when he does, he doesn't usually teleport.

"Allow me to escort you, Kitty," says the gypsy prince and offers me his arm.

When did it suddenly become in vogue to treat me like a lady?

"Thank you," I say, not knowing how else to respond, and place my arm through his, resting my hand on his forearm. I'm surprised when his other hand covers mine and I do flinch a little then. I sense him hesitate and before he can remove his hand I turn mine and give him a gentle squeeze. It feels different from what I can see, of course. Gotta love holographic technology.

"It's okay," I say, smiling up at him in a manner I hope is reassuring. He smiles back. The Professor indicates with a nod that he'll be along shortly and I am propelled through the open doorway and down the hall to the kitchen door. The gypsy prince moves swiftly and gracefully. He holds the door open for me.

"Thank you, Mr. Wagner," I say and give him a little curtsy, which is a weird thing to do in jeans, I know, but a little levity seems appropriate.

"You are welcome, but please, call me Kurt."

_I'll try, mein freund._


	12. Chapter 12

**June 28, 2006:** And here is Part Two of Chapter Six. :)

Please see previous disclaimers for details regarding this story, though I will repeat…

… **that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)  
**

This has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

There are still a lot of students in this chapter - and they aren't going away anytime soon. Don't worry if you get lost when a bunch of them are talking, though I've set up '**…**' after each segment to help determine that a different group is speaking. You'll see what I mean - though by now, if I've done my job correctly, you probably recognize certain characters like Hank McCoy and Sam Guthrie when they speak… :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. This part of Chapter Six is a longer than the first part. It just seemed to fit that way.

**I have to add: I have just returned from the cinema and have now seen the third X-Men movie. Interesting choices were made that wouldn't necessarily have been my choices, but then, look what I'm writing, lol? ;)**

**Without spoiling the plot, I can say I wanted to see more of the team - where did Kurt go? - and the likes of Peter and Hank - and yes, it needed more Kitty Pryde, too. I liked the actress they cast for her character, though. Good look, right build, handled herself well. :D**

_**Excelsior!**_

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Six: Part Two**

**Whole Enchilada**

"- and so the other broom says, 'But we haven't even swept together!'"

Not the most amazing joke ever, but for some reason, it's hilarious when told by the London-accented young man standing closest to the fire, while the rest of us sit on the grass nearby. We are far from the giant oak tree. The laughter is contagious and I can almost forget the more serious and puzzling events of the day. We're just friends, enjoying a warm night in early August, waiting for the summer to wind down like a dreidel before we become students full-time again and _really_ have to hit the books.

At least Russell is keeping it fairly clean, potty mouth though he seems to be by nature. I even know the joke and I still laugh with the others.

"That's enough from me," Russell is saying, moving to snag another tin foiled s'more from the base of the fire with a pair of long tongs. "Someone else can get up here." He's had five s'mores already - I'm only on my third - on top of six hot dogs, and I don't know how he can breathe, let alone talk with so much food in him.

Then I realize he probably doesn't _have_ to breathe and I feel my smile diminish. _Dead._ The Professor said he was technically dead. I try to ignore the fact that I've just rhymed. Russell has taken hold of the tin foil pouch, chatting with Sam about something, not reacting to the heat that should be burning his skin right now. Sam has noticed. I see his eyes flicker down, some alarm building in them. Russell's skin is fine, however, and if he's aware of anyone's scrutiny, he doesn't show it. He laughs. It's a good laugh. I'm glad whatever happened to him hasn't silenced it forever.

"Tell us a story, Dani," Alison says eagerly, and other students take up the plea.

"How about the one where the rabbit loses his tail?" Dave suggests, his dreadlocks bobbing as he looks to the others for support.

Oh.

"I don't think I will tell that one tonight," Dani says carefully, her eyes glancing towards me. Rabbits. _Um, maybe not._ I mouth a quick 'Thank you' to her. She returns with a slight nod.

"How 'bout Raven's pot, then?"

I swivel enough to look at Logan, who is on his third hot dog, for the record. He hasn't been at the school very long, but he's either heard about Dani Moonstar and her Native North American legends or he was in the shadows when she last gave a telling. That was about two weeks ago. Both are possible but my bet is on the latter. After all, who would know he was there?

"Alright," she says and stands, moving in front of the fire. She closes her eyes and we go quiet. When she opens them again, there is a subtle change about her, as if she is channelling all the storytellers from her tribe going back thousands of years. I think of the spirit bear, hunting her, and at moments like this, the threat seems real.

"There was a time when only the Darkness existed, where the sky and the earth and the moon and the stars were only thoughts in the heads of the beings that existed in the Darkness. You know this story." Most of us nod, having heard that tale from her before, entranced by her form and voice as it rides the crackles of the fire behind her. "Raven decided to stir the pot, so those in the darkness would have somewhere to be, and the earth and sky became. The pot is a powerful thing and must not be played with, or the consequences would be dire." She leans forward ever so slightly, as if the grouping were more intimate, her voice now a whisper. We strain to hear her every word. "There was one amongst them who thought he could make things better. This is the story of the third time Coyote stole Raven's pot…"

I let her voice wash over me, knowing the story and basking in the warmth of the fire and the moment. Beside me, I'm aware that Kale has shifted and is now crawling over to where the tongs hang on a metal pole, which was specifically placed here many years ago for that purpose. He doesn't want to stand during the story and I'm sure Dani appreciates that, but the lure of the s'mores has him hooked and he just can't wait until the end. Kale has a sweet tooth to put us all to shame. Good thing he's so active or we'd have to roll him into class. I close my eyes and listen to the story, contemplating another s'more myself.

Someone sits beside me but it isn't Kale; his place has been taken. Tentatively, I inhale to see if I can tell who it is like Logan would do. I smell chocolate and marshmallows. I hear tin foil crinkling and someone breathing through their nose while they chew. _Breathing._ Until that point, I thought I knew who it was. I open my eyes and confirm my guess: Russell.

He grins at me, his lips covered in goo. "Cheers," he whispers. I stare at him, confused.

"You're breathing." My voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it, and I suddenly hope he can't. _What a stupid thing to say, Pryde_.

He hesitates, his large blue eyes regarding me sadly, then he finishes chewing and swallows. "Habit."

"I'm sorry," I mumble, feeling stupid.

"s'alright, luv," he says and takes one of my hands in his. I give it a squeeze. His hand is cool but not cold. I can feel his pulse at his wrist. How can he be technically dead and still have his heart beating, blood flowing through his veins, lungs pumping…

I lean closer to him, so my mouth is against his ear, not wanting to disturb anyone around us. "That's your sixth smore."

He trembles a bit and I wonder if he's feeling cold. There is a breeze coming off the lake but it's still a warm night. Being dead might modify his sensations, of course. He leans into my ear, his warm breath tingling my skin.

"I didn't know anyone was counting," he whispers, then adds, "But s'mores are much better than… _brains_." He drags out the last word, like a zombie in a B-Horror flick. I stifle a laugh, though whether it's from his impersonation or having my ear tickled, I'm not certain. I briefly wonder if that means he's actually eaten a brain, but decide not to pursue that line of thought. Russell isn't a zombie, in the traditional Hollywood sense, anyway. He isn't a vampire either, I'm pretty sure of that. A ghoul? That's a possibility, from what I've read. I shiver at the thought.

"Cold, luv?" The dead boy puts his arm around my shoulders and takes another bite from his s'more. I sit very still, not sure what to do, say or feel.

"I'm okay," I finally manage, hoping the casual tone I'm aiming for can be conveyed through a whisper. He chuckles quietly and I shiver again. _Get a grip, Pryde. He's not going to eat you, for crying out loud._

Then his mouth is by my ear again. "I could eat you, if you like."

I turn so quickly to look at him that our heads nearly collide.

He smiles. "You know, eat your brain, luv."

"Ah, yes," I whisper, flushing at the thought that first entered my head and hoping the night conceals it. "I see what you mean, but no, I don't want you to eat my brains. I like them where they are." He squeezes my hand in acknowledgement and takes another bite of his s'more.

I know I won't do anything like _that_, like what I thought he'd said, not with Russell, not having known him less than twenty-four hours, for crying out loud. Others might think me a prude, but when I get curious enough and want to explore feelings like that, it will be with someone who is a good friend, someone I trust and know and love, not something casual. It isn't that I can't; I _won't_. I choose not to. It's like my life is a play: must be true to the character.

_And_ _Uncle Stan would have a fit if I gave in to such things_, I think, smiling, hoping I see him in Manhattan this Hanukah.

Jubilee says she's "explored" - don't know with whom and don't really want that image in my head, thank you very much - but she hasn't "done it yet", as she so eloquently put it. We have tons of time to take it slow and not rush into something like that, but sometimes I wonder about kids today… There I go, sounding old again.

_Den mother…_

"Coyote was very sorry for what he did and waited for his punishment. But Raven did not punish him. He forgave him and made him promise to never stir the pot again." Dani grins and I can envision Coyote's expression as she lifts her crossed fingers from behind her back and says knowingly, "And everyone knows how Coyote keeps his promises."

There is lots of applause and a few whoops from an appreciative audience. People stand and stretch and thank Dani as she moves through the crowd. I stand, too.

"I think I need another s'more," I say, looking down at Russell's upturned face. He grins and stands quickly and I remember how he was with that staff at the piñata. Maybe I couldn't take him in a fight, after all.

"Oddly enough, mine seems to have disappeared." He winks. "I need another one, too."

We move towards the fire and wait in turn for the tongs, for the line is long. I catch snippets of conversation.

"Great story, Dani."

"Thank you, Logan."

"You'll let us know when Coyote starts causin' trouble again."

"I'll certainly keep you posted."**…**

"Thanks, Dani."

"You're welcome, Alison."

"It works really well with the fire behind you like that. Spooky."**…**

"How many s'mores have you had, Kale?"

"Only five, Mr. Guthrie."

"Seven."

The friendly smack of a palm on skin.

"Thanks for the support, Dave."

"Any time, bro'."**…**

"It is a tale to learn from, Lady Amara."

"Indeed, Roberto. I had no idea these gods existed and were so revered."

"Well, I imagine that depends who you talk to, luv."

"As you say, Jack. They are very different from my gods…"**…**

"Are there any hot dogs?"

"Haven't you had enough, Pietro?"

"Nope."

"I'll see if there's any left…"**…**

"…Though I never juggled with more than four torches at once."

"Amazin'. Bobby, did you hear what Mr. Wagner just said?"

"Yeah, juggling torches. Doesn't sound too hard."

The friendly smack of a gloved hand on skin.

"Well, it doesn't!"**…**

"Anything unusual, Professor?"

"Nothing I am aware of, Ororo."

"It is difficult to be vigilant when the we are so poorly informed about the true nature of our circumstances."

"Indeed, Hank."**…**

"I dinna understand why Raven lets him near the pot at all. Why not lock it away?"

"Unfortunately, the pot is Everything and Nothing, Here and Nowhere, and therefore easy and difficult to guard."

"Och. Am I supposed to understand that, Ms. Moonstar?"

"It's okay if you don't. And please, call me Dani."**…**

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"  
"No."

"I'll be good 'til Christmas."

The heavy sigh of someone trying to be strong.

"Alright, Kale, but this is your last s'more tonight."

"Thank you, Mr. Guthrie!"

"Does that mean I can have another one, too?"

"Ah have to draw the line somewhere, Iz."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"**…**

"I can't eat another bite!"

"I wouldn't if I were you, Ang. You shouldn't have let that boy talk you into 'just one more'."

"But they are so good!"

"And now you feel sick, girl. I see I should have a talk with Mr. Harker."**…**

"Great story, Dani."

"Thank you, Sam."

"It'd blow their minds if they knew Raven and them really existed, wouldn't it?"

"As sure as Kentucky grass is blue, my friend."**…**

Russell turns to me at the mention of his name.

"Sounds like you're in trouble, mister," I say.

"Keisha's gonna kick my arse!"

"Guess you shouldn't have tried to make Angie eat another s'more."

"Get one for me, will ya?"

"Uh, sure." He glances to one side and I sense Keisha is on her way.

"Meet me at the stables." He bolts from the line and is gone.

"Where did that boy go?"

I smile at Keisha and shrug. "I think he said something about needing to pee." I manage to keep my voice casual and hope my expression remains innocent. I can even look her in the eye, and everything. Guess I'm good at this.

Her eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything more about it. "Nice place you have here."

"I call it home." I hold up two fingers and extend a wad of paper towel to protect my hands from the worst of the heat, thanking Sam very much for the two s'mores, absently wondering about what I heard him say to Dani about Raven.

"How convenient that Mr. Harker's bladder should make demands on him now."

"Why? Has he done something?"

Those eyes look at me again. I try to appear as innocent as possible without being suspiciously so. "Angie can't take a lot of sweet foods," she says finally. "It… aggravates her mutant ability."

"Really? What's that?"

"How long you been here?"

Hmmm, sudden topic change. I let it go. "Almost four years now."

"That's a long time."

I shrug again and we move off so others in the line behind us can get their fix.

"Feels like forever some days."

"Hey, Kitty! Did you ever get that paper done?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks, Syrin."

"So, what is it that brings you here, girl?"

Ah. _That _question. At this rate, Russell will never get his s'more. I take a bite of mine, trying to decide how much I should tell her. I get the impression that the Professor wants to be more formal when we all introduce our powers, or at least have it done in a controlled environment. The only reason I know about Jack and mirrors was out of necessity, and with Russell -

"I can phase through things," I say, settling for the truth and keeping it short.

"Things?"

"Solid objects, you know, walk through walls like a ghost." It's the easiest example I can think of, and one I figure most people will be able to visualize.

"A ghost?" I stop and look at her as I take another bite. She seems a bit uncertain about this news. "Ghosts can have a lot of power."

"I'm not actually a ghost, though," I say through chews. I decide it's time to divert this topic. "What about you?"

"Targeting." _Well, that's short and sweet and really useful_, I say - in my mind.

"That doesn't explain why you're here. You can have good aim, but how is that a mutant power anyone will notice?"

"I target souls," she replies, and I have an inkling about her reaction to my ability.

"There you are!" It's Angie, looking a bit green. She takes Keisha by the arm. "Ms. Munroe is taking me inside, to see if we can find something for my stomach. Please come with me?"

The goddess places a hand on Angie's shoulder, reassuring her that all will be well with a smile. I've seen that look before, and hope Angie really is all right.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so, Kitty. We'll be back soon, I'm sure."

The three of them move towards the mansion and I dawdle by the fire, finishing my s'more then wander casually in the direction of the stables.

Russell is outside one of the stalls, sitting on a bale of straw and staring rapturously at Dani's horse. I take a deep breath. Straw, manure, wood and horse sweat. Oddly, it smells good.

"Here you go," I say, passing him his s'more. He doesn't look at where it is but reaches for it unerringly. He takes a bite and finally pulls his eyes away from Brightwind.

"We didn't get in here on the tour," he says, speaking in a hushed voice as if he were in a library.

"Brightwind is an unusual horse." Once again, I wonder how much I should tell him. I sigh. "Let's just say that he doesn't easily trust and might be nervous with a crowd. You'd all meet him, eventually."

He swallows.

"And - and those are -"

"Wings. Yes. He can fly. Whatever you do, don't _ever_ try to mount him. Neither he nor Dani would be pleased."

"This is Dani's horse?"

"Yep. And one of her best friends." I rummage in the feed bin and pull out a carrot. Brightwind's head sticks over the stall door and his lips take it from my hand. He knickers softly. "You're welcome."

"Oh, so _your_ mutant ability is talking to animals?"

Brightwind flicks his ears and snorts. I smile and he lets me stroke his neck. "I wouldn't call him an animal, if I were you."

"About your mutant ability?"

I shake my head, deciding once without permission was sufficient. "Uh-uh."

He wiggles his eyebrows in a lecherous manner. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"I bet you've got some etchings you'd like to show me, too."

"Oh, yeah."

We both laugh, knowing it's only fun, just verbal banter.

"Sorry, Russell, but not tonight."

"When, then? Tomorrow?"

I think about everything that's happened today and wonder how I'll get through the night, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

And terrified of what will come.

"No doubt," I say solemnly, touching Brightwind's mane gently, "tomorrow you'll be told the whole enchilada."

"Isn't that Mexican food?"

"It's also a way of saying you won't be able to avoid the truth, every last detail, even if you wanted to."

There's an awkward pause.

"Sounds ominous, Kitty."

"It was meant to, Russell." I look into the horse's eyes and wish I could communicate with him, ask him if he can sense anything wrong. "It was meant to."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's late and the curfew has come and gone, much to the disappointment of the younger students. They're smiling as they file into the mansion, though, and many can't conceal a yawn or two. Lots of fun and food and exercise will do that to you. The bonfire has been thoroughly doused and garbage put in the proper bins. We're neat at Xavier's.

I find Ms. Munroe and ask about Angie.

"She will be fine," she says, revealing nothing. "She just needs to rest."

_Okey-doke…_

It's like an episode of 'The Waltons' right now, as everyone calls 'Goodnight!' to their friends at the back stairs in the kitchen and the main stairs in the hall. At least there's no one trying to sleep. The noise calms a bit as people separate and go down different corridors to their rooms.

Rahne is beside me as the crowd thins.

"I dinna have time to say anythin' before, Kitty, it was all so exciting, but - I'm going to be your new roommate." She looks down at her feet, as if she should be apologizing. "I hope _that's _alright."

I notice she's carrying a suitcase, which must have been stored in the hall closet or something since the new students arrived. I place a hand on her shoulder. "Rahne." I wait for her to look up at me. When she does, I smile. "I'm happy to have a roomie again." I've enjoyed my solitude but the option of company is always nice. "Neither of us had a choice about where you'd bunk. I tend to stay up late and work on my computer and have friends who can only go on-line at odd hours 'cause they live in a different time zone." I wink. "I hope _that's_ alright."

Rahne beams.

"Och, aye."

I didn't know people actually said that; I thought it was a Hollywood stereotype of the Scots. You learn something new every day. I release her shoulder and we continue to my - _our_ room. I get the key from my right back pocket and retrieve my PDA from my left back pocket as I wiggle the lock. Rahne waits for me to reach around to my right and flick on the overhead lights before she follows me inside.

"Oooo, it's lovely," she says reverently and moves towards the window. The security lights are on in the basketball court and there are a few more around the mansion and the perimeter of the property. A double line of them curves through the trees to our left, towards the main road, highlighting the driveway that leads to the gate.

"We're on the southwest side," I say, closing and locking the door. I place my PDA and my key in the drawer of my bedside table. She stands there, holding her suitcase, looking lost and hopeful at the same time. "That's your bed." I point to the other side of the room. "And your desk and computer are here." The backs of our desks are against one another, providing a sort of divider without completely separating the room. She takes it all in with huge eyes that rival Russell's but doesn't move. Whatever.

I realize one panel of the window is still open from earlier and I crank it shut and lock it, thinking of the air conditioning and Wanda's warning. Someone is moving on the grounds, towards the stables. By the light of the moon and the hazy glow of various security lights, I can make out enough to know the person is tall and slender and has long dark hair, currently in two braids: _Dani._ Brightwind can't really be left to roam the pasture in broad daylight, what with the wings and all, and he doesn't get much exercise as a result. I smile and close all the blinds.

"There," I say, and turn around to my new roommate. "Complete privacy." At this declaration, she does move towards her bed and places her suitcase on it. I remove my sandals and jeans and turn my back to strip my t-shirt and bra, not wanting to embarrass her. She's very shy and probably not used to cohabitating. I find a tank top that's not in the laundry hamper and pull it on. A pair of loose, cut-off sweat shorts completes my summer night ensemble.

When I'm done, I glance at Rahne. She's unzipped her case and opened it, but seems distracted by the sheets. One hand touches them tentatively then more boldly, as if she doesn't believe they're that soft.

"They're so soft," she breathes.

"Two hundred and eighty thread count," I say, and she looks up at me, startled. I guess she didn't realize she'd spoken out loud. "There's a blanket in the chest at the foot of your bed. It's one hundred percent wool and will probably be all you need for the winters here." I grin. "It was made in Scotland." She giggles. "The sheets are Egyptian cotton. Your pillow is allergy free foam and your mattress will mold to your body so well you won't want to get up in the morning. Your duvet is polished cotton stuffed with goose feathers and was hand-made in Connecticut by a woman named Sue."

Rahne blinks. "Are you kidding with me?"

"Nope."

"Why did you memorize all that information?"

I shrug and make sure the brass bell is within easy reach, just in case.

"I didn't. I read anything once and it's there." I snap my fingers. "Instant recall, it seems."

"Oh, my. Is that - I mean, your special gift -"

"No." I sit on my bed and hug my knees, wriggling my toes against the duvet. "That's just how I'm hardwired."

She swallows. "Oh, my."

I laugh. "Yeah. Ask anyone if they want to play Trivial Pursuit with me and they'll probably say something like, 'Only if she's on _my_ team.'" She looks disconcerted. "I'm not bragging, Rahne. That's just the way it is."

"Oh," she says, and unpacks her suitcase. I direct her to the chest of drawers, which is in the bottom half of her side of the closet. "That must come in very handy for school," she adds.

"I guess." I lean against my headboard and watch her putter.

_How long will it take me to go to sleep tonight?_

_**To Be Continued…**_


	13. Chapter 13

**July 15, 2006: **Sorry for the delay in posting. Real Life took the front seat for a bit.

You might be relieved to note that this Author's Note is actually going to be really short. Please see disclaimers on previous chapters if you feel so inclined.

The X-Men and related characters are not mine but anyone you don't recognize probably _is_ mine. Not been Betaed, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My thanks to those who read and to those who opt to review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

Enjoy!

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Seven: Part One**

**Whistling in the Dark**

August 6, 2004, 2:06 AM

I'm lying in bed, wondering why I'm suddenly awake, at two-oh-six in the morning on a Friday. There's no reason to be up so late. My on-line friends aren't expecting me to chat and I handed in my last assignment yesterday. I wouldn't have even _had_ that assignment if I weren't taking extra courses. Learning continues during the summer at Xavier's but definitely on a less hectic schedule - unless you're me, that is. I _like_ school - most of the time - though Jubilee thinks I'm masochistic.

I blink at the red numbers on my digital clock and listen for something, anything, to explain my sudden alertness.

Rahne is snoring, very gently. That couldn't be it. I stretch, and my right arm cramps. I realize I fell asleep on my side while still talking to my new roommate. We chatted about the evening and she talked a bit about the flight over from England as we drifted in and out of consciousness. I'm not even under the covers. Sitting up isn't too bad. I rub my eyes and give a good stretch and feeling returns to my arm. It'll stop hurting in a minute, though. It's so quiet I can hear the click of the digital number turning from a six to a seven.

_Why am I awake?_

I perform a quick check. Not hungry and don't need to pee. The latter piece of information is amazing, considering the amount of food and drink I consumed at the barbeque. My stomach doesn't ache - another miracle - and other than my temporarily cramped arm, nothing hurts.

For some reason, I'm thinking of when Russell and I left the stables last night.

Keisha wasn't waiting to "kick his arse", as he'd so eloquently put it. She was still in the house with Ms. Munroe and Angie. He'd dug into his jean pocket and fished out a cigarette, lit it with a match from a crumbled matchbook advertising a pub. I gave him the standard look of disapproval I use when it comes to something like smoking.

He'd smiled quietly and said, "What's it gonna do, luv? Kill me?"

And I hadn't known what to say.

Now I'm wondering if he even sleeps.

I sniff the air but don't smell smoke. Xavier's has a no smoking policy in all its buildings so I'm not surprised. Wasn't what woke me, then.

In the dim room I see my desk chair and the pair of jeans, without holes, draped there from the pool incident. The moon is creeping around the edges of the blinds. Between it and the night light near the door, I feel I can move around without fear of kicking something or accidentally waking Rahne. I put on my sandals, again thinking of my errant bunny slippers, take the key from my drawer and grab my still-damp jeans. After dragging my fingers through my hair a few times, I put it up in a hasty bun with an elastic and head out the door. The lock clicks very quietly. I look up and down the hall, not knowing why I might expect to see someone there. It is empty. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I head towards the main stairs.

I reach the laundry room without incident and take a quick sniff of my jeans: chlorine. They need to be washed before they can hit the dryer. I sigh and set the machine for a small load. The knob makes noise when I turn it and the water whooshes like Niagara but I'm nowhere near anyone's bedroom and the door is almost closed. I add detergent and stuff my jeans in and close the lid. It starts to beat the denim senseless and with any luck, I'll be able to wear them tomorrow and not smell like the pool.

_Twenty minutes before I can put them in the dryer._

I drum my fingers on the machine and look around for something to occupy my time. The laundry room has ten washers and dryers, including two of each that are large load, and dry cleaning equipment. What, they're gonna send out a bunch of outfits made of unstable molecules that look like black leather to the laundry mat? Just paint a target on the roof of the school or post a sign at the gate: 'Secret Superhero Team Lives Here'. Yeah, that'd be good. As it is, Magneto probably has our address burned into his mind. Bad enough that Stryker found us, too.

I check all the machines to make sure no-one left a load to mould in the wash. All empty and spotless. I check the dryers next, cleaning out a few lint trays and finding one argyle sock. I leave it in the 'Lost and Found' bin on one of the folding tables. After straightening the boxes of detergent and sprays and dryer sheets and so on, I check the small, adjoining washroom. Towel dispenser has towels, toilet paper holder has toilet paper, and the porcelain is sparkling…

God bless housekeeping. I sigh and decide I need a glass of water.

And being my usual, lazy self, I take the short cut through the walls to the kitchen, rather than use any of the more conventional routes.

I can hear them as I cross through the billiard room. Whispers and moans, a giggle: Bobby and Rogue. There isn't a lot of conventional, um, 'exploration' they can do, but they both seem to have vivid imaginations. They probably came in from stargazing, as they've been doing a lot this summer, not realizing the time and desperate for a late night snack. The telescope is all the way out by the lake, along the shore from the bonfire area in a specially designed gazebo. I'm not so dense as to realize it's an excellent spot for some intimate activities, but Rogue's astronomy assignment was sufficiently impressive to prove she really _has_ been stargazing.

I enter the kitchen through the wall by the refrigerator, careful to avoid hitting any wires or active appliances. I'm probably one of the few who has taken the time to learn how the mansion is wired. Can't phase through a wall and wipe out someone's computer without suffering incredible consequences.

It's dark and any noise or movement stops as soon as I enter. Guess there's enough light from where they're standing by the microwave to see me. The air smells of reheated burritos. I don't look their way but turn my back to snag a glass from the cupboard. As I fill it with ice and water from the 'fridge door, I hear them whisper but can't understand what they are actually saying. I don't really want to know.

I smile, wondering if I should whistle to myself to cover their conversation.

_Whistling in the dark (boom), whistling in the dark (boom)…_

Glass full, I take a sip and blithely exit through the eating area table and out into the hall. I think _they_ know that _I_ know they're there, but obviously they are happy to keep our nocturnal prowling separate.

Speaking of nocturnal prowling…

"Mornin', Pryde."

"Mornin', compadre," I respond, doing my best John Wayne.

Logan chuckles and eases away from the wall. Not a lot of shadows in the hall; there has to be enough light for emergency egress. If he held completely still, though, he could probably lurk for hours without anyone noticing him. Does he sleep in his jeans and black tank top?

"Up a little early, aren't'cha?"

"I could say the same of you."

He frowns. "Don't always sleep very well." I wasn't expecting actual information and the surprise must show on my face, even in the dim light of the hallway.

"Oh," I say.

"You get nightmares, too, right? Since the attack?"

_Logan just admitted he has nightmares. Why is he telling me this? I'm not a part of his life, like Rogue and Jubilee. Maybe I'm dreaming._

"Yeah." I take another sip of water and suddenly find one of the paintings behind him very interesting. I don't really want to talk about my nightmares.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he says quietly, then does an abrupt topic change by tipping his head towards the kitchen and saying, "They've been in there for fifteen minutes."

_Has the air conditioning stopped working? It's warm in here._ I try to think of something light to say. "Are you on floor patrol tonight or something?"

"Bet I don't have to guess what they're up to." He's muttering mostly to himself, probably been stewing about it since he came across them.

"I bet you don't -"

"What does she think she's doin'?"

"Logan." Where is this stern voice coming from? "Rogue is old enough to make her own decisions and any meddling or over-protectiveness from you will not be favourably received."

He's looking bewildered and angry now. "Just a goddamned minute -"

"She doesn't need you to be a father figure. She has a boyfriend, Logan. Get over it and move on."

He stops breathing. "Jean?"

Shit. _Not again._ He's looking into my eyes like he can see her just on the horizon, and if he were to run fast enough, he'd catch her.

"No," I say and close my eyes. "_No."_

His hands are on my shoulders. His face is close enough that I can tell he's breathing again. "Open your eyes!" He sounds so desperate that I do.

_I wish someone would look at me like that._

His expression is very intense, anxious, vulnerable, loving…

"Where are you, Jean?" God, it hurts to listen to him. I can't listen to him, mustn't listen to him…

"I don't know where I am." Standard answer, Dr. Grey. Is it that you _don't_ know or you _won't_ tell us?

"Come home," Logan whispers, his face inches from mine. Beautiful.

Then it all clicks into place. I find some hidden strength and jerk free of his hold.

"That's it, isn't it? That's why I'm getting more than two words from you. I'm just a way to Jean, aren't I?" My voice isn't as calm as I want it to be.

"Kitty -"

"That's why you bother to give me the time of day, because Dr. Grey is somehow communicating with me, possessing me, whatever. That's why I suddenly get noticed."

He's shaking his head. "It's not like that -"

"You'll talk to the others and invite them to your rock garden and show them some fighting moves, but I only matter now that I have Jean."

"Are you alright, Pryde?"

"Oh, whatever!" I spin on my heel - which is a neat trick in sandals - to return the laundry room. He moves to follow me.

"Kitty, damn it -"

I turn on him, exasperated. "And don't swear! This is a school! No potty mouths allowed!"

"Keep your voice down, darlin'." Logan makes gestures of placation with both hands but I don't want to play that game.

"Or what?" I guess the straw broke the camel's back more than once, 'cause this is at least the second time today I've had enough. "You're gonna tell me I'm _grounded_? Increase my _curfew_? Double my homework? _Threaten me?_ What? I'm ready. Bring it on!"

"Kitty -"

"I'm sorry, Jean can't come out and play right now. Why don't you go bother Jubilee, since Rogue is obviously occupied? I have laundry to do."

He grabs my arm. I phase out of his hold and stalk away. His voice pursues me as an angry growl. "Oh no you don't."

Okay, I'm scared now. Not that I think he's going to hurt me or anything, but he sounds riled and determined, and though that might be exciting as a description of one of those Regency romance gentlemen, I'm not in the mood for a confrontation. I've said my bit. I wish he'd leave me alone. I remember not to wish too hard, just in case.

I can't hear him but I know he's gaining on me and I refuse to run. I turn the corner to go down a corridor, which I realize, belatedly, is the wrong direction to get to the laundry room, and come to a complete halt.

At least I have the sense to hold my hand up and he stops beside me, silent, watching. My jaw has come unhinged and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

A white rabbit, which must be about five feet tall, is opening the door to Mr. Summers' office. He's wearing a navy jacket and a tartan vest that looks like it's done in the blue colours of the Stewart clan. I did a paper last year on Scotland and learned way too much about clothing. The rabbit has a gold pocket watch, which he's consulting with apparent consternation.

Logan and I exchange silent glances of utter astonishment.

_Russell would probably say we're 'gobsmacked'…_

I manage to clamp my mouth shut, jarring my teeth, and raise my eyebrows, silently asking: What do we do?

He shrugs slightly: He doesn't know. I place the flat of my hand on his chest to get his attention and then move my fingers quickly to my eyes, then point at the rabbit: We wait and see. He follows my meaning and nods.

"Oh, my ears and whiskers," the rabbit mumbles to himself as he steps over the threshold. His voice can be best described as 'nasal British BBC'. "I'm going to be so late, the Queen will have my head!"

I bend down and place my water glass on the floor under one of the decorative tables, so no one will accidentally trip over it. I have no idea who I think is going to come along, but it's an unusually busy night at Xavier's. If I'm here and Logan's here and _Harvey's_ here, we only need one more and we'll be set for a hand of Whist.

Logan touches my arm and steps forward. I stay close by him as we approach the still open office door. He indicates I should go to one side while he goes to the other so we do, just like we were spies or something. We hunch against the wall and carefully peer inside. I can see the chair I sat in yesterday afternoon. Logan can probably see the desk - and the mirror behind it. I strain but I can't see the rabbit.

Logan slips inside and, not wanting to be left in the hallway with whatever else might be creeping around, I go after him.

Harvey is still muttering to his watch, but I can't make out sentences, just a few words. Words like 'tea' and 'scones' and 'court' and 'ratings' and 'installation'…

I frown. _Ratings and installation?_

Logan is getting closer to the rabbit and is about to grab him from behind when the creature darts around the desk, unaware of our presence, and hops - hops! - into the slightly warped surface of the antique mirror.

And disappears behind the looking glass.

Logan turns to look at me, just to confirm that I saw it happen, too.

I nod, quickly scanning the frame for the little faces I so love. I swear they're laughing at us. Impulsively, I run to the mirror and reach out to touch the glass.

"Kitty, no!"

Logan has excellent reflexes. He catches my hand before I can reach the surface and this time I don't phase. I realize he was holding his breath when he lets it out in a gust of relief when I don't disobey him. He was really worried.

"You can let go of my arm now," I say. He does. "I want to try something. "I reach behind me and grab a pencil from the ceramic holder on Mr. Summers' desk. I wince when I realize the holder is a mug I made for him in art class three years ago. It's really bad. No time to dwell on it now.

I face the mirror again. Logan watches me carefully, like I'm gonna do something stupid and he's braced to stop me. I move the eraser tip to the glass and gently, ever so gently, press against it.

A small pair of yellow, clawed hands erupts from the mirror, snatches the pencil from me and withdraws into another world. I do what anyone would do in this sort of situation: I scream my head off and hastily crawl backwards onto the top of the desk. Logan has moved protectively in front of me and I hear the distinctive sound of his claws popping through his skin.

_Snikt._

Someone is screaming and won't shut up, and I realize with some distant chagrin that it's me. I don't have a stopwatch, but I'm pretty sure that the footsteps sound within ten seconds as several people leap from their beds and tear down the stairs. I wonder how many are skipping the stairs all together.

_Bamf!_

That answers that question, I guess.

"What has happened?" Mr. Wagner - _Kurt_ - appears in pajamas with a very fine navy pinstripe in them. His holographic device isn't activated. It registers with me that his tail is very agitated. I stop screaming and point to the mirror, dismayed to see my hand is shaking.

"It took my pencil!" _Brilliant, Pryde. Try being more specific._ "Things, in the mirror, a rabbit -"

His eyebrows rise towards his hairline. "There is a rabbit in the mirror?"

"Somethin' like that." Logan glances at Kurt as the teleporter walks to stand beside him. "We'd better get Chuck."

The office door is suddenly flooded with people who all seem to arrive at once. Mr. Summers and Sam try to enter at the same time and Sam backs up so the senior X-Man can get through. Right behind Sam is Ms. Munroe, whose bedroom might be the farthest away, followed by Peter. All are in various states of undress, except for Rogue and Bobby, who enter hesitantly, fully clothed in their barbeque attire.

"Kitty!" Mr. Summers comes straight for me and places an arm around my shoulders. I'm shaking all over, damn it. "Are you alright?" Before I can answer, he looks at Logan. "What happened?"

"Looks like we got company," Logan says cryptically and gestures to the mirror with one clawed hand. "We saw a rabbit jump into the mirror, then Kitty had a pencil taken from her by some pixie hands."

A thorough explanation? No, but it'll do for now.

Sam, Peter, Rogue and Bobby form a chorus.

"_What?"_

Ms. Munroe takes a ruler from the edge of the desk and approaches the mirror.

"Careful," I manage, though I know she will be. Mr. Summers tightens his hold on me. Inch by inch, the ruler gets closer to the glass and stops when it taps quietly against the surface.

Nothing happens. A collective breath is released.

"Is everyone alright?" Professor Xavier wheels across the threshold, his pajamas covered by a burgundy bathrobe. I wonder how he managed to get here so fast, looking so neat and unflustered.

"Yeah," I say, straightening a bit and sliding my feet over the edge of the desk so my legs dangle. Mr. Summers gives me a quick, reassuring squeeze and lets go of me. I realize I lost one of my sandals during my hasty retreat. I'll get it when I feel comfortable standing again. "I'm okay. Just a little freaked."

"A rabbit has been here," Kurt says.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Harvey?"

"Probably the same one I saw in the woods earlier, but who can say?" I sigh. "I hope there's only one. Logan and I followed it into the office, and yes, before anyone asks, it had a pocket watch." I nod at the mirror. "It jumped into there. I stuck a pencil against the glass and a pair of creepy looking little hands took it away from me. Then I screamed. The rest you know."

Ms. Munroe turns slightly, the sleeves of her flowing robe wafting at the movement. "But the path has been sealed." She taps the mirror. "This ruler won't go through."

The faces in the frame start to laugh. Am I the only one who can hear them?

"Get away from the mirror!" I slide down the desk and struggle to get passed Logan and Kurt, to reach Ms. Munroe.


	14. Chapter 14

**July 15, 2006: **And here is Part Two of Chapter Seven. :) 

Even shorter Author's Note. Yea! ;)

I'm trying my hand at German this time and have asked for help to ensure I get it right. Many thanks to Mari for her assistance with this process and smoothing out my rough attempt at the language. :) I've decided to put the translation at the end of the chapter to avoid jarring the reader.

My thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this little epic. :)

**July 29, 2006:** Okay, **here** is the next chapter, lol! Sorry for the delay… :)

_Excelsior!_

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Seven: Part Two**

**Whistling in the Dark**

A huge pair of hands with too many digits bursts into our world and seizes the ruler and Ms. Munroe. She is yanked from her feet and barely has time to make a startled "Oh!".

"Ororo!" Kurt is closest and grabs her around her waist, trying to pull her free. The two of them swing about the room like rag dolls as the hands try to shake the man off. There are several shouts of alarm and Logan launches himself at one of the hands, slashing with his claws. One pair goes deep into the joint I'll assume is a wrist. An unearthly shriek temporarily deafens us and Ms. Munroe and Kurt are dropped unceremoniously to the carpet. Logan pulls his claws free but not before he's slammed against the wall. The hands retreat with the ruler. A black fluid oozes onto the shelf and starts to drip; Logan's claws are covered in it. He stands and stares, waiting. The tension is palpable.

In the stunned silence, I find my other sandal and stick my foot into it.

"The mirror is, indeed, a portal," the Professor states.

"And these are the guardians," I add, pointing to the tiny faces. Their heads move to follow my finger. Rogue gasps.

"They're movin'!"

"Yep. They're laughing, too." Everyone looks at me blankly. "Don't you hear them?"

"Nope."

"Not me."

"Sorry."

"I can hear them, Kitty."

How many times in one day can I thank God for having the World's Most Powerful Telepath in the house? "Good. Once again, I have proof I'm not going crazy."

Logan is sniffing his claws and from his expression I'd say the smell is very unpleasant. He doesn't even look winded as he grins at me with satisfaction.

"Guess I hurt it."

"Guess you did. Let me get you a towel for that."

"Thanks."

I run to the kitchen and grab all the dishtowels on the rack and run back, cutting through some walls to get there faster. Logan gratefully takes one of the towels and cleans his claws before retracting them. Sam steps forward and helps me use the other towels to sop up the shelf and the growing, sticky mess on the carpet. We try not to touch any of the stuff. The smell is inescapable now as it permeates the room.

"This is gross," I mutter.

"Absolutely," Sam says.

Ms. Munroe seems unharmed. She and Kurt are standing more or less where they fell and are considering the nature of the mirror with the rest of the group.

"Any recommendations?" The Professor waits patiently for us to think.

"Obviously, we could destroy the mirror." _Ever-practical Sam._

"I think we shouldn't be too rash." _Careful Mr. Summers._

"Shouldn't we get rid of it before it takes more than just school supplies?" _Nice point, Logan._

"I wish we knew more about where it leads."

"The only way we could do that, Professor, is to go through." _Quite so, Mr. Summers._

"And we can even do that on our own terms." He looks at me and knows what I'm suggesting: Jack.

"We'll have to give this careful consideration," the Professor says. "Would everyone please leave the office." They file out, Bobby and Kurt in particular looking bewildered that we aren't staying to make a decision. I know why we're leaving, though: the guardians of the portal won't be able to eavesdrop now.

I take the lead of the group outside in the hall. "Kitchen," I say and walk beside the Professor's wheelchair. We reach the main entrance and there are students waiting on the steps from the second floor. One stands: Roberto.

"We heard screaming," he says.

"Is everything alright?" It's Siryn, hugging herself as if she were cold.

"It's alright now," the Professor says, smiling. "Nothing to worry about."

I note the others: Kale, Iz, Dave, Alison, Julie. All light sleepers, brave and curious enough to leave their rooms in the dark under unusual circumstances. I note Alison looks worried still: someone is missing.

_Wait a minute. They're_ _inseparable…_

"Ali? Where's Wanda?"

The words have barely left my mouth when the double front doors to the mansion burst open, threatening to leave their hinges, and the threshold is filled with a fantastic sight.

Brightwind steps cautiously into the hall, not certain of the marble surface. His wings stretch once he's clear of the doorframe and he whickers loudly. Dani sits astride him, her braids tangled with leaves, her jacket torn. She looks terrified.

"Had to leave them," she says, gasping. "Had to get help."

The Professor pales and goes rigid beside me. "The woods," he says, his voice strained. There's a rush for the kitchen and I can hear the side door slam. Dani whispers something to Brightwind who reluctantly turns, his eyes wild with fear as she guides him back through the door. His hooves sound loud on the floor.

"Stay here," Mr. Summers says to the younger students and follows the others.

The Professor and I exchange a worried glance. Before us, Brightwind takes two steps then leaps into the air and takes flight. Siryn runs to the front door and I know the horse is circling to return to the back garden and the woods beyond by the way the young Irish girl is moving her head. I chew my bottom lip.

"To the garden?" I ask.

"To the garden," the Professor replies then reinforces the instruction given by Mr. Summers. "Wake the others. Stick together." Roberto and Julie nod and move to help Siryn close and lock the front doors. The rest seem mute with alarm.

For speed, I push his chair into the kitchen, moving at a light jog and not hitting anything. We make it to the side door, which is partially open. I push it open all the way and grunt as I manoeuvre the wheel chair down the small ramp. It's very quiet and there's no sign of anyone. I start jogging again and we make the patio and clear the porch with it's darkened faerie lights. We hit the grass and that slows things a bit, as it's a beautiful lawn but a little bumpy. We almost reach the scrambler and the trees nearby when something launches itself at us, hard, and the wheelchair and I topple sideways.

"_Professor!"_

I roll and push myself up on my hands and knees - and stare into the sharp teeth of a large, drooling creature about the size of a Honda Civic that I will describe as a lizard-dog. With it's scales and fur and teeth and claws and ridged back, it's the best I can do. It is neither lizard nor dog, however, but something completely different. From some_where_ completely different.

The eyes are huge and seem to have some sort of metallic braces holding them in. The creature gurgles at me and drool drips onto the grass from teeth longer than my arm. I'm paralysed.

With a loud crack it falls to one side, stunned or dead, I don't know. Brightwind and Dani are there, a pair of hooves to the head at high speed having dealt a wounding blow to my assailant. "Where's the Professor?"

I look at the wheelchair, resting where it fell on the darkened lawn. Of our mentor there is no sign. "Damn." I stand and the garden spins a bit. Dani reaches down and steadies me.

"Where is everyone?"

"Not in sight when we got here."

We share a worried look then Dani nods and I grab hold of her leg, and between the two of us I am sitting behind her on her beautiful winged friend. She says something to him and he turns towards the woods at the southwest part of the property. I know the path well, having run this way with the other students the night of Stryker's attack. I grip Dani's waist tightly as we launch into a canter, flinching when the branches whip at me. Her jacket smells of leather and sweat and horse. I try not to make a sound. Having been on a horse fewer times than I have fingers on one hand, and suspecting most sane people use a saddle to keep themselves mounted, I'm certain I'm gonna fall off.

Another miracle is bestowed upon me as I arrive at the scene intact and still on Brightwind. My legs are clenching so tightly, I'm not sure I'll be able to leave the horse.

"We're here," Dani says and I know she wants to dismount so I try backing up. She scissors her right leg over Brightwind's neck and slides gracefully to the ground. I find out how far off the ground we are when I run out of horse and fall into a pitiful heap. His tail swishes in my face. I move before he thinks I deserve a kick, too.

The clearing is empty.

"Where -"

"Step sideways," Dani says, grabs my arm and pulls me one step to the right.

I'm still in the woods outside Xavier's, but I can see a battle going on here that wasn't visible a second ago. I'll have to ask Dani about that later. Right now, something nasty looking with metallic braces acting as joints for its limbs has Wanda in a crushing embrace and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let that continue.

I charge the back of its legs, hoping to knock it over. It works, but it doesn't let go of Wanda, and she cries out as it rolls on top of her. I swing my leg around and give it a swift kick in the head - at least, I think that's the head - wishing I had the strength of Brightwind's legs. The creature reacts by hissing and grabbing my foot.

Not part of the plan.

It stands and I'm swinging upside down. The rest of the battle progresses around me. I catch a glimpse of Mr. Summers lifting his nighttime glasses - which _do_ wrap around his head - so he can zap the thing carrying Karina, who appears to be unconscious. Karina is dropped but Pietro is fast enough to catch her before she hits the ground. Ms. Munroe is calling up a wind and lightning and I hope the good guys can get out of her way in time. I hear a feral roar and a squelching sound and am given a glance of Logan standing on top of… something that is now gushing black blood. Sam flies in from the left like a rocket and rams another creature that is threatening Sarah, Blink and Frankie. The thing buckles in the middle and it and Sam blaze from the clearing.

_Bamf!_

"Guten Abend, Kätchen," Kurt says, hovering for a moment over the head of the thing holding Wanda and I. "What are you doing upside down?" He plants his right foot into the thing's face and it let's go of both of us. Pietro catches Wanda, which is a good choice because she looks unconscious and wouldn't be able to land well. I drop and roll and Kurt helps me up.

"Vielen Dank, mein Herr."

"Jederzeit, meine Liebe. Wir müssen sie stoppen, bevor sie das Portal erreichen!"

"Welches Portal? Der Spiegel im Büro?"

"Nein. _Dieses_ Portal!"

_Oh_, I think, secretly pleased my German has returned, and stupefied that I didn't notice the swirling orange thingy in space above the clearing.

I take a quick look around, the den mother in me doing a head count. Dani is holding Karina and trying to gather the kids behind Brightwind. I can make out Pietro, Wanda, Sarah, Blink and Frankie. Pietro is still holding his sister. Sam returns, without his 'friend' and stops blazing long enough to land behind the horse without alarming him. A bolt of lightning strikes the ground near Kurt. After my sight returns, I realize it was striking a creature that had been creeping up on him. I look over at Ms. Munroe, who now has Mr. Summers and Logan beside her as they tackle a group of undeterred… things. _God, I really have to increase my vocabulary and find something else to call them._

"Where's the Professor?" I look around wildly. I grip Kurt's arm. "Rogue and Bobby? Where are they?"

"They have been taken," Kurt says, leaping to avoid the swipe of a creature who has a long, pointy stick and is obviously very proud of it. I grab the stick and phase the end off. The creature looks displeased, but I couldn't care less. Then Peter - _Colossus_ - is beside me, taking the brunt of the creature's anger. _Clang!_ I can hear crunching and I watch the thing crumple in pain, holding its… 'hand'.

_Don't mess with metal, dude. _

Bending into the wind, I take hold of Kurt and Peter and brace myself. I pull, directing us towards Brightwind. The horse's head is down and his wings are folded tightly against his body. Dani is comforting him, as he's unsure of the lightning and other unusual aspects of the weather. I don't blame him for being nervous. We reach Dani's side and a shriek fills the clearing. Through the debris, we watch in horror as a huge mouth drops from the swirling orange disc and swallows the remaining X-Men. Then the disc is gone and the wind suddenly ceases and bits of bark and twigs and leaves from last autumn pelt us as we stand in the clearing.

"They're gone," Pietro says despondently, hugging Wanda close.

We take a minute and scan the woods as best we can without moving and with what little natural light we have, but all we can see is inhuman bodies, most of them dead.

"Übel," I say in the silence.

"What's that mean?"

"Roughly, it is German for 'evil'," Kurt translates.

Sarah nods, still shaking. "That's a good word for them," she says.

I'm turning an adjective into a pronoun using a language I haven't spoken in years. This night is full of surprises.

I don't realize how frustrated Sam is until I hear him mutter and give one of the corpses a violent kick.

"Now what do we do?" Blink asks in a small voice.

A wail pierces the air, as if in response to his question.

Sam, Dani, Peter and I all say: "Siryn!" And then we're running through the woods towards the mansion, Brightwind sticking close to Dani. Sam blasts ahead despite her urgent, "Wait!" and Kurt teleports from my side before I can even think of suggesting that he stay with us.

"Men," I say vehemently and round on Pietro and Blink. "Don't even think about it!"

"Yes, m'am!" They're cute when they talk in unison. Peter smiles as he jogs beside me. I didn't have to warn him because I knew he'd stay with the group. I love this guy. Dani is falling behind because she's still carrying Karina and Brightwind, who is pacing her, whickers. We slow down as we reach the scrambler and catch our breath. I realize Siryn has stopped screaming.

"Look!" Frankie cries, pointing to the sky. I turn in time to see Sam blast through the roof. He's carrying two figures, one under each arm. _Getting them out of harm's way_…

_The mirror! _

I note Sam is headed towards us and Peter and I jog to meet him as he lands. Siryn is unconscious and seems to have a cut on her forehead. Sam's other passenger is Keisha, who is wide-awake and mad as hell. She wrenches herself from his hold.

"What did you do that for? Our friends are in there! They need our help!"

"Ah don't think we can stop 'em right now, miss." He lays Siryn on the ground. Dani and the others join us. I kneel beside the injured girl and check her pulse, wishing I had better light to see the wound. I smooth her red hair away from her face in a gesture I can only think of as motherly.

"It's all been a distraction, hasn't it?" I begin, looking up at Sam. "Divide and conquer."

"Only they're just taking the X-Men," Dani concludes.

"I guess this is a good time to be chopped liver," Pietro mutters.

"And we better count our blessings it stays that way." I stand. "Dr. McCoy?"

Sam shakes his head. "I'd better get back. Dani? Peter? You stay here and look out for the others." He takes a deep breath and I know what he's about to say. "Sarah?" She looks up at him, wide-eyed. She knows what he's about to say, too. "If you have to, summon your 'friend'." That can't have been easy for him to ask. Last time she summoned that winged demon, Sam almost had one of his arms ripped off. Sarah nods.

"You can't make me stay, boy."

"Ah need you to help here," he tells Keisha, standing firm before her livid face.

"I'm coming with you," I say, and skip the argument by wrapping my arms around his neck. Sam smiles grimly, swings me in front of him and holds me tightly, as if he were a groom, carrying me over the threshold.

"Hang on."

We're airborne and zooming through the hole in the roof seconds later. Sam blazes down the corridor towards the office, ploughing through a few creatures lurking there, looking for more victims, no doubt. Good thing he and his passengers are invulnerable when he's blasting. His feet touch the marble floor and I notice he's wearing sneakers without socks and the shoes aren't even laced. It's too early in the morning for this sort of thing, for crying out loud. Sam lets go of me and I turn to get my bearings. Why can't the bad guys attack _after_ I've had my coffee?

Something lunges for me in the dim hall light and I respond by grabbing it and flipping it over my shoulder, thanking my Judo training for teaching me the real joy of momentum. The figure lands hard on its back and I can see it better now: humanoid form, male, completely black like an ink well from head to toe.

"That is a fine move, querido," Roberto says, laughing in spite of the situation. I offer him a hand up and he takes it. It tingles to the touch, this form he's in, but his all-white eyes are very disconcerting. He stands in time to intercept an Übel, as I'm calling them, lifting it over his head with apparent ease and flinging it down the corridor, knocking some of its friends to the ground. They should've stayed down when Sam put them there.

Fireworks are coming from the office and I jump over a very still Übel to reach the doorway. Jubilee is there, dressed to kill in a tight red t-shirt and matching shorts, doing her best to blind the creatures milling about the room. More are emerging from the mirror. An Übel has Angie pinned to the wall and Sam is beating it over the head with a golf club. Mr. Summers must keep his sports equipment in here. A large dog with reddish fur is biting the leg of another… _thing_, and it takes me a moment to realize that the face is not canine enough to conceal the features of my new roommate.

"Rahne!" I grab the nearest object - a floor lamp - and swing it into the 'neck' of the Übel she's biting. He falls and Rahne goes for the jugular. Another Übel seems to hesitate in its assault on Iz and starts pummelling one of his own. I note Xi-an is hugging the wall nearby, trickles of sweat pouring down her face. _Possession_, I think, and whack another creature in the head. Xi-an's mutant trick doesn't last long, though. The Übel breaks free of her hold and turns towards her. I raise my lamp but don't think I'll be able to reach her in time.

I don't have to. A burst of flame smothers the Übel and it screams. The female form, wreathed in fire, continues to pour heat from her fingers. The creature stops screaming and jumps through the window sending shattered glass everywhere. It is heading for the pool, burning as it goes. The fire goddess smiles.

"Hello, Kitty," Amara says, and jumps out the window where more Übels are fleeing. I pull Iz away from the melee, find Kale, Harley and Dave behind the sofa. We join them.

"Where are the girls?"

"In the hall!" Harley says. A chair is flung at the wall over our heads and splinters. We duck, protecting ourselves as best we can. "We got separated!"

"Stay here." I leave the office, the lamp cord finally having reached its max and snapping from the wall as I go. I find Alison, Liz and Julie on the stairs, stumbling backwards as several Übels close in. Liz is brandishing a poker she must have grabbed from the living room. If they've got the X-Men and that's what they came for, why are they still here? I can tell the girls are scared - who wouldn't be? - and Alison is crying. Liz is trying to keep herself together but it's Julie's face I see, her ashen terror that sets the heat building inside me.

"_Leave my children alone!"_ I raise my arms and the Übels start melting, slowly, shrieking in agony as they die. I scream. The heat rushes through me. I know that any of the creatures remaining at Xavier's are suffering the same fate and I don't care.

I am alive. I am burning.

**_To Be Continued…_**

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Translation:

**"Vielen Dank, mein Herr."** Many thanks, kind sir.

**"Jederzeit, meine Liebe."** Any time, my dear. **"Wir müssen sie stoppen, bevor sie das Portal erreichen!"** We have to stop them before they reach the portal!

**"Welches Portal? Der Spiegel im Büro?"** What portal? The mirror in the office?

**"Nein. _Dieses_ Portal!"** No. _That_ portal!


	15. Chapter 15

**August 25, 2006: **Sorry about the delay in posting. It's been a hectic summer. :)

Short author's note – whoo-hoo! ;)

The same disclaimers apply as before but I will reiterate that this story hasn't been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault. Any characters you don't recognize are probably mine, in particular: Russell, Jack, Keisha and Angie. This is just for fun, folks.

My thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

_Excelsior!_

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Eight: Part One**

**Witness**

August 6, 2004, 2:45 AM

The floor is cool against my legs. I can't move them yet. For a moment, I can't remember why I'm not lying in my bed, dreaming of working as head programmer of a small but cutting-edge computer firm, with wireless Internet access and Brendan Fraser as a co-worker. Okay, so that dream has only happened twice…

A girl is crying. I can hear footsteps in the distance from somewhere down one of the many corridors. I think they're coming this way. Should I be alarmed? Then I realize my head is in someone's lap. I feel a cool hand on my forehead and another on my wrist.

"She's d-dead!" _Alison?_

"She isn't dead." _British accent. Why can't I place her?_

"Sam said to keep her warm." _That voice belongs to Julie._

"Get a coat from the hall closet," the British girl instructs. There's some scampering as someone - probably Julie - runs to the closet, flings it open and rummages through the hangers. Seconds later, she returns and a long, leather coat with a fuzzy lining is draped over me, tucked under my chin. I like the smell of leather.

"She hasn't moved! She's dead!"

"No, she _isn't_." The British voice belongs to the person cradling my head: _ah, Liz_. "Ali, hush now, Kitty isn't dead. She _isn't_ dead. I'd know. Do you understand me? Julie?" I hear movement and guess that Julie is now holding Alison, who wails inconsolably.

_Bamf!_

"Elizabeth! What happened?" _I know that voice._ Kurt kneels beside me and checks my pulse for himself.

"I don't really know," Liz says. "When Kitty found us trapped on the stairs, she shouted, 'Leave my children alone!' and then the horrors started to melt and they screamed and - sorry." She swallows. I want to comfort her but I can't move. Not yet. Liz takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Sam said to keep her warm. He's rounding up the others. That's all that's left of the lamp she was holding." I hear the movement of cloth and know that Kurt has turned slightly to look at something. _Lamp? Who was holding a lamp?_

**You were, Katherine Leanne Pryde…**

I sit up suddenly and Liz yelps.

"I'm okay," I say brightly, though I haven't ventured to open my eyes yet. "I'm fine, everything's going to be fine." A strong hand grips my upper arm. The skin is soft, like suede: _Kurt_. The footsteps have slowed, stopped, and someone is moving to join us.

"I'm okay," I repeat, as if it were a mantra. I swallow. "I'm fine." A hand from the other person takes my wrist and checks my pulse. The fingers are long and there are calluses from doing work in the garden: _Sam_. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Kitty -"

"_ImokayImfineeverythingsgoingtobefine!"_

Other footsteps can be heard as more people join us. Sam moves his hands to either side of my face, holding it gently but firmly.

"They're gone, Kitty," Sam says quietly, and someone starts rubbing my back, trying to comfort me. "They're gone. Open your eyes." _Didn't Logan ask me that?_

Not wanting to hold things up, I open my eyes and blink. Sam's face is right before me. It's an angular face, a nice face, a face you can trust. He smiles. "Atta girl."

Liz shifts from behind me to kneel to my left, her hand still rubbing my back. She smiles. There are tears on her face. Alison slides across the floor in her pink pajamas and stares at me. Overwhelmed, she pushes passed Sam's hold and hugs me fiercely. I assume she's crying _now_ because she's happy I'm _not_ dead. I return her embrace and say things like "It's okay" and "We're all here, don't worry", but I'm not entirely sure what happened and I'm scared, too. Maybe it isn't okay. I look at Sam. I know he wants to ask me about the Übels. All I know for certain is that they're dead and that we have Dr. Grey to thank for it.

_Hmmm, that sounds about right…_

"All I know is that they're dead," I say, deciding to skip any preliminaries. "And we have Dr. Grey to thank for it. Don't ask me how, 'cause I don't know. She came to our defence… through me. That's all." I'm rocking Alison, who isn't crying quite so hard now but the shaking hasn't stopped. "Have we accounted for everyone?"

"No. Near as we can tell, the creatures took the Professor, Mr. Summers, Ms. Munroe, Logan, Bobby, Rogue and Dr. McCoy. All officially X-Men." I suppose that list is the official team, though I'm not sure by what definition Logan falls cleanly into that category. And if he qualifies, what about Kurt? "We can't find two of the new kids, Jack and Russell, but we're still lookin'." Sam sighs. "Ah'm reluctant to split up into groups too much, just in case we get attacked again."

"Strength in numbers," I mumble, and gently disengage from Alison. She manages a smile then slides over to Liz, who puts a protective arm around her. I try to stand and Kurt and Sam are there to help me, thank goodness, or else I wouldn't have made it. I catch the leather coat before it hits the floor. "Thanks," I say, and straighten my tank top. It gives me something to do. I consider the people who came down the corridor after Sam.

Roberto looks like a regular human again, albeit one wearing flashy track pants with a racing stripe and a t-shirt with a soccer ball motif on it that would make Escher proud. Angie is being supported between him and Harley. Her pajamas aren't as colourful as her previous outfits but there are hints of purple that probably exceed the dress code at the Ritz. She looks ill. Harley looks concerned and cute in his racecar boxer shorts. Dave is in basketball gear, as per usual, only his feet are bare. Loyal to his hometown, his favourite team is the Raptors. He looks tired but otherwise seems unharmed. Ray is standing near him, wearing Spiderman pajamas. I think he's in shock.

Xi-an has a protective arm around Iz and Kale, looking drained but controlled and very stylish in matching silver silk pajamas and robe. The two boys are in t-shirts and shorts and they look understandably boggled. Rahne is a bit disheveled in her understated navy jammies but seems uninjured. All her fur is gone. Jamie - only two in number now - looks exhausted. Both of him are leaning against the wall in t-shirt and shorts, breathing hard and sweating. He'd better 'regroup' with himself, as it were, and soon or we'll have another problem on our plate.

"Jubilee?"

"Lookin' for the missing kids with Peter and Amara."

The front doors are open once more to the night. I turn in time to see Brightwind climb the stone steps and grace the hall with his magnificence. I do a head count: Dani, Karina, Blink, Frankie, Sarah, Wanda, and Siryn.

"And Pietro and Keisha?"

"Also doin' a quick search." I raise an eyebrow, thinking of his statement of moments ago. Sam smiles ruefully. "Dani and Ah were outvoted on stickin' together for this." He consults his watch. Who sleeps wearing their watch? "They've got another five minutes, then they're supposed to meet us back here."

I lean closer to him and whisper, "Did Sarah have to summon her 'friend'?"

"No," he says, obviously relieved. I nod.

"How long have I been unconscious?" He glances at Liz then back to me.

"Ah'd guess about ten minutes."

My eyes widen. "_Ten minutes?"_

"Yep. We were busy while you were lyin' around." I swat him on the shoulder and he lets me. It's a normal moment in an abnormal morning. I'll take what I can get.

I go to the closet, returning the coat Julie used to cover me and retrieving the four flashlights from their chargers. "Just in case," I say, giving them to Sam, Dani and Karina and keeping the last one for myself. A small gust of wind signals Pietro's arrival. Keisha wisely walks down the stairs a few moments later, looking like it would've been an indignity to be carried by the boy.

"Nothing," Pietro reports. When Keisha reaches the bottom of the stairs, she adds, "_He_ searched everywhere. I just checked the obvious places, not being Speedy Gonzales." She looks worried and I don't blame her at all.

"Maybe they're outside," Roberto suggests, trying to be optimistic. "The grounds are extensive. They could be anywhere."

"True," Sam says. I can tell he's preoccupied with something. There are so many possibilities that I'm not even going to guess which of the current problems he's mentally chewing on right now.

Running feet, bare feet, slapping the marble floor. Jubilee comes tearing into the hall, breathing hard.

"We've found something," she says breathlessly, and bends over to put her hands on her knees. "You guys aren't gonna believe this. You gotta come."

Sam and Dani share a look and nod. Most everyone is watching and as they follow Jubilee down the corridor, we join them, including Brightwind. As we reach the elevator, which leads to the basement level, our guide stops and says, "I left Peter and Amara to watch it. Careful where you step."

There were Übels here. The oozing remains are in small piles on the floor. The smell is extraordinary. I hear a heave behind me; damn, should've thought of that. Angie is throwing up. Roberto and Harley are still supporting her and Keisha is at her side.

Brightwind won't go any further so Dani stays with him. The others have stopped, probably unwilling to find out first hand what has been discovered. Deciding there are enough people looking out for Angie, I walk cautiously in the steps of Sam, Kurt and Jubilee. We reach Amara, who is standing just outside the elevator. I note her bathrobe seems intact, despite being a fire goddess earlier. My guess? Dr. McTaggert must've shared her material made from unstable molecules. You can make anything with that stuff and it'll go through hell and still look good when you're done. Come to think of it, Rahne must also have some of that fabric, as she's completely decent now with no tears in her jammies. Roberto must be wearing some of it, too; that ink-black figure wasn't naked. When you throw someone over your shoulder, you notice things like that.

The door is open. Amara glances at us then returns her gaze to the floor inside the elevator. "It is trying to get out," she says quietly. I come closer and see Peter, no longer in Colossus form, kneeling inside the elevator, only wearing his pajama bottoms. He's staring at something that's moving on the floor.

It's a hand.

_Russell's hand._

I recognize the scrapes on the knuckles and the chewed fingernails and the calluses on the fingertips I can see as they wiggle feebly. It's cool to be able to recall details like that, even though I'm not aware of them at the time. This is like something from the special effects department of a big budget horror movie, except what I'm witnessing is real.

"Liz," I say and Sam thinks about it before calling her over.

"Ah know you need to touch someone in order to read a mind," he begins, already looking concerned about her reaction.

"Yes. I can receive telepathic communications directed at me from a distance but I can't read an unaware mind or that of a non-telepath without first…" Liz trails off from her nice, neat lesson as she spots the hand. I see her swallow, try not to inhale too deeply or she might vomit, too. She looks at me, then at Sam. Sam nods.

"If you're sure you're gonna be okay, Ah'd like you to touch the hand and tell us where Russell is."

"This is… Russell?"

"It's his hand, anyway," I say, stating the obvious. She swallows again.

Peter looks up at us. "It's moving more slowly than when we found it."

"How did it get up in the elevator in the first place?" Jubilee wonders aloud. "It's not like it can reach the buttons."

"Liz." Kurt puts a hand tentatively on her arm. "If you can find out where he is, and I know the location, I can teleport there and make sure he's alright." She stares into his gold eyes and nods slightly.

"We'll be right here," Sam adds. The purple head nods again.

Mental note to self: get Liz something really special for Christmas.

Someone comes to stand beside her and indicates with a gentle smile that he'll be right outside, next to Sam: _Harley_. I'll give him a hug later for this one. I glance over at Angie. She's sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, being tended to by Dani and Keisha. She looks weak and frail. I wish I knew what was wrong.

"Well," Liz says with a short exhale of breath. "Here goes." She crouches beside Peter and slowly reaches out for the pale hand. As soon as she touches it, the hand curls its fingers around her wrist in a desperate grip. Liz screams and topples over. Peter catches her before she hits the floor.

"Can you reach him?" Sam asks.

"He-he's downstairs… in a closet… near the elevators to the sub-basement level. He's…" Liz frowns, more puzzled than scared now. "He misses his hand but... He's worried about Jack."

"Are there any creatures?"

There's a pause. "There were, but they… melted."

The young man who has assumed the role of leader for this bewildered bunch turns to Kurt. "Can you teleport there?"

"Ja."

Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out again. "Then do it. We'll be right behind you. Don't let either of them move."

_Bamf!_

"Peter, Kitty, Jubilee - you're with me." Sam turns to the others. "The rest of you stay here and stay alert. Listen to Dani." He looks at Liz, still crouched down with a hand clutching her. "Liz? You better come, too." She stands, holding her arm at a distance.

I find myself chuckling. Sam looks at me. "Sorry. I'm having an Addams Family moment." He smiles slightly, knowing the reference.

Jubilee gets in beside Peter, giving Liz's arm a wide berth, and Sam and I follow. I push the button marked 'B' for 'basement'. A bell dings quietly and the doors close.

We reach the basement level without incident and file into the hallway. There are pot lights in the ceiling at equal points and they illuminate a colourful corridor with doors leading to rooms and walls decorated with various movie and music posters; the student games room is down here. Piles of Übel goo mar the floor. Some of it splatters the walls.

"Ick," Jubilee says. I heartily agree. My foot kicks a piece of metal but I don't bend down to pick it up. I recognize it as a brace, like the one that held in the eyes of the Honda Civic creature who accosted me in the garden. _Ugh._

Liz takes the lead. I note the hand is still holding on to her very tightly. We round the corner to the right and see Kurt in front of the closet near the elevator to the sub-basement. House keeping doesn't ever go down there. The Professor has an automated cleaning system that would make Molly Maid's eyes bug out.

The closet door is closed.

"I have spoken with Russell," Kurt whispers to Sam as we approach. "He says he can't reach the door and hold on to Jack at the same time." Sam tests the knob. "He locked it, as a precaution," Kurt adds, shrugging to indicate that Russell hasn't elaborated. Sam takes a step back and has that stubborn look that says no door has been built that can stop this boy from Kentucky.

"Ah'll just -"

"Let Kitty phase into the closet and find out what's going on," I finish. He pauses and I can see him waver between being the leader and the action hero. Finally, he nods his agreement.

"What she said." He smiles a crooked smile.

With a smile of my own, I pull out my flashlight. I won't turn it on while I'm phasing, of course, or that'll fry it. I take a breath and step into the closet.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	16. Chapter 16

**October 19, 2006: **I can't believe I haven't posted a chapter for this story since August! My apologies for the delay. Thanks for the reminder, Mari!

The same disclaimers apply as before but I will reiterate that this story hasn't been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. This is just for fun, folks.

My thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

Finally, here is Part Two of Chapter Eight.

_Excelsior!_

**Smashing Through the Looking Glass**

**Chapter Eight: Part Two**

**Witness**

I pause, listening in the dark. This is a space for sports equipment out-of-season, so 'closet' is more like 'small storeroom'. Whatever. By the light coming under the door, I can see the beginning of the stand for the hockey sticks.

"Russell?" I click on the flashlight as I say his name and sweep the beam around the room until I find him.

I'm stunned by what I see.

Russell is sitting on the floor, leaning against the far wall. He looks exhausted and is sporting two black eyes. I move the light down his left arm and sure enough, his hand is missing. No blood, though. There's movement under him: Jack? A figure is tied at the hands and feet with what looks like our badminton net. The rest of the netting is wrapped around his body, so he's cocooned in green mesh. A piece of material has been stuffed in his mouth to keep him silent. Jack's head turns to look at me and jet black eyes make me shiver. Instinct kicks in: _not Jack._

"What's going on?" I'm pleased by how calm I sound. I haven't moved any further.

"I'm sitting on this demon until he let's Jack go," Russell says matter-of-factly. "Good thing I'm already dead, or I would be."

"What?"

He shrugs. "This has happened before, but we had proper restraints. Mr. Braddock is an extremely organized bloke." He follows my gaze. "Don't look into his eyes, Kitty, or listen to anything he says. We have to make him let Jack go." Russell leans closer to the handsome face. "You hear me, eh? Let. Jack. Go." The black eyes burn with hate.

"So, this isn't Jack?" I take a few steps towards them, getting a closer look at the man Russell has pinned. I can see clearly now that it isn't right; that someone else is masking the young man I met earlier that day. He's even more breathtaking than I remember from the barbeque. Something stirs in my stomach, like butterflies of panic. I squelch them down.

"No. It isn't. He's very strong and persuasive. He tried to kill me, but of course, he forgot it didn't matter with me, didn't you, dear?" The demon hollers hoarsely through the cloth, no doubt trying to say something rude and unpleasant. Russell cups a hand to his ear. "What's that? Couldn't make you out, mate."

"Maybe you shouldn't antagonize him." The black eyes return to me and I fight the urge to rush over and prostrate myself before him if only he'll touch me. I back up a few steps and unlock the door. "Just Sam," I say, opening it a crack.

"Can you bring me my hand, please?" Russell asks, as if requesting another scone. Sam puts his hand on Russell's hand and tugs it off Liz's wrist. Another moment I never thought I'd witness in real life.

"Sure," Sam says, staring at the fingers that proceed to drum on his palm. He comes inside and I close the door on the remaining startled faces. He turns on his flashlight and between the two of us, we can see much better.

I take a deep breath. "The short form? Jack's possessed by a demon that tried to kill Russell - _again_ - and Russell won't free Jack's body until the demon leaves."

"Not bad, Kitty," Russell says. "Are you good at summaries for essays, too?"

"Yes, but that's a topic for another time, I think."

"Uh -" Sam holds out Russell's hand, eyeing the demon-Jack and not sure what to do next.

"Just toss it, mate. I don't want to give this thing any advantage so I'm not moving."

"Uh, alright." Sam tosses the hand, like he would a ball to a child. Russell raises his arm and the hand joins at the wrist as if drawn there by an invisible power.

"This is surreal," I say.

"Tell me about it." Russell checks his wrist, as if to confirm that the join is secure. "It takes some getting used to, you know?"

"Ah can just imagine." Sam moves to demon-Jack's head and crouches down. "So, how do we get the demon to leave Jack?"

"They were still figuring that one out when we came here." Russell hesitates. "I think Professor Xavier was going to keep him from using Jack with the help of someone named Cerebro. I don't know how, though."

"When did this… _possession_ happen?"

"Just before all hell broke loose, Kitty. I noticed Jack wasn't in his bed, so I checked the halls and found him in the process of… changing. He said Cerebro was down here and that he'd help him. Once the demon took over, I had to try to contain him and this was the nearest place with restraints, such as they are."

The demon howls at this moment and arches his back, trying to buck Russell from him. Sam places a forearm across Jack's chest and flattens him firmly to the floor.

"Ah don't know who you are or what your name is, son, but you better cooperate or Ah'll get Wanda to exorcise you. It won't be pleasant." Sam can sound surprisingly menacing when he has to. We both know that Wanda isn't that type of witch, but the demon doesn't.

"Brilliant!" Russell beams. His eyes are looking worse but his spirits are high. "I even have the demon's name. That'll help with the spell." The black eyes that were Jack's look furtively around, finally settling on me.

"Kitty?"

I feel a heat burning inside me. I wonder what this demon can do. He's so beautiful, so sleek and muscular, and he wants to touch me…

"Kitty, don't look -"

The voice is distant as the demon's eyes and the promises there swallow me…

"Get out of my mind!"

He screams then falls abruptly silent. The closet doors bang open and three concerned people rush in. Light from the hall makes the scene more real.

"What the hell -"

"Shhh!"

Amazingly, Jubilee falls silent. I reach over and caress Jack's face. He's unconscious and his body is limp and covered with sweat.

"Um, what did you do?" Russell asks tentatively.

"I told him to get out of my mind," I say, my voice cracking.

"We 'eard that part. Are you a witch?"

I shake my head.

"'Cause the demon's gone. I can tell. Can you?"

"Yeah." At least Sam is able to speak. I just nod my head vaguely. I feel like one of those bobble dolls, like you see in the back of cars and at sports events. My head just might fall off if I don't find something to ground me soon.

"Will someone please tell us what's going on?"

"In a minute, Jubes. Let's get Jack free of this net."

Russell stands, with help from Sam, and works at the knots. I remove the cloth from Jack's mouth. It matches Russell's shirt, which explains where it came from; I note one of his sleeves is shorter than the other. We roll Jack carefully across the floor until he's free of the badminton net. Despite his injuries - he did say he'd be dead if he weren't already - Russell lifts his friend with ease into a fireman's carry over his right shoulder.

"Okay, people. Back up, please." They do. Russell looks even worse in the hall light. Peter looks like he is going to offer to carry Jack, but Russell's expression brooks no argument. We head towards the elevator.

"So the hand was to get help," I say quietly.

"Yeah. I flung it down the hall when he overpowered me, and then I, um, died for a bit." He glances at me and my look of confusion. "I'm _always _dead, but things still function like, um, normal, as it were, until I suffer a major trauma." He gestures with his head towards Jack's unconscious form. "He, er, smothered me - well, the _demon_ did, of course, not Jack - and it took a minute or two for my system to, um, get back on line." I'm trying to follow what he's saying. I know I understand the words but the implications are hitting me hard. "I woke up to find the demon chewing at the knots I'd started. Good thing I'm stronger than I look." Russell gives me a watery smile and adjusts his hold. "Jack won't feel very good when he wakes up."

"I bet," I manage, trying to keep the conversation from becoming too depressing and not wanting to make Russell feel any worse about his 'ability', what happened with Jack or the nightmare of the Übel attack. "So, aside from being very strong and persuasive, what type of demon is this, anyway?"

Russell doesn't say anything.

"Do you know why it chooses Jack?" Sam tries.

Russell hesitates. "Sorta."

We reach the elevator. "Look, Russell." Sam's tone stops the young man but he avoids looking at any of us. "Ah don't want to put you on the spot, but we have to ask some questions. There's a lotta stuff goin' on right now and we need to know what we're dealin' with here. We need to know if Jack might be able to help us get the X-Men back."

Sam hasn't discussed anything with me, but he understood what I was saying in the office. Mr. Summers must've shared some of the study conversation that didn't involve just Dr. Grey. Figures it would be Sam he'd confide in. They are two completely different people except for one thing they share: _leadership_. It radiates like a protective fortress from Mr. Summers. It shines like a beacon from Sam.

"It's been with his family since the sixteenth century," Russell blurts. "The demon," he clarifies. "It doesn't usually manifest itself like this." Then something registers with him and he finally looks up. "What's happened to the X-Men?"

"They've been taken," Sam says.

Peter crosses his arms, looking grim. "By force."

"By those freaky things," Jubilee adds, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Liz shudders. "To some other place."

"Through the looking glass." Russell stares at me, adjusting his hold on Jack again. "Yes, we know Jack can travel through mirrors. We're hoping if he can open this one, we'll be able to get to this place and bring the X-Men home."

"Not that we've talked it out or have a plan yet or anythin'," Sam says, sighing heavily. "But we can't leave them there."

Jubilee snorts. "As if."

"We won't let them down." Peter looks so confident right now. I hope he's right.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The kitchen is very full, especially considering it's almost four o'clock in the morning. There are twenty-three of us in here, after all. Good thing Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is a mansion; the square footage of my parent's house would fit in this kitchen.

Everyone is more appropriately dressed now, though Ray insisted he continue to wear his Spiderman pajamas. His sneakers blink red when he walks. I watch him as he pours another glass of milk and crosses from the 'fridge to the main table. He sits beside Dave, who has added a jacket and shoes to his basketball outfit. The older boy looks down at Ray and helps him get settled in his chair. His dreadlocked head bends down so he can whisper something. They share a smile. I get that warm feeling again, like I've witnessed a moment in life that shouldn't be as rare as it is, and I cherish it's simplicity.

"Heads up!" Jubilee places the first batch of pancakes on the table and the kids make them disappear very quickly. Everyone has only one, to start. It was decided that was a fair way to handle feeding so many at once. Someone laughs at the breakfast station and a stool scrapes the floor. Kale is balancing a fork on his upper lip, much to the delight of Frankie and Iz. What a normal thing for a kid to do.

Sam and Dani are tag-team cooking. Right now, he's doing the flipping while she's making the batter. Sarah and Karina are there, too, helping with the prep work by mixing the dry ingredients in another bowl. Karina has flour on her nose. Rahne is wearing oven mitts. She's been placing the pancakes on a platter as they're ready and putting them in the oven until a batch is done. She's smiling. I try not to think of how she must feel after biting into the flesh of those creatures. At least she isn't one of those werewolves that are controlled by the phases of the moon. Being able to change at will must come in handy.

In the TV corner, Blink is changing channels, using the movement of his eyes as the remote, as is his preference. Alison, Pietro and Wanda are with him. They're part of the second sitting, as it were. Wanda is tired but other than a few scrapes, she came through the attack unscathed. She has no memory of how she left her room. None of the kids who were in the clearing do. My guess is the Übels entered the mansion through the mirror and grabbed whatever humans they thought were of sufficient quantity to get the attention of the adults. Dani and Brightwind were flying in from the lake to return to the stables when she witnessed the Übels crossing the back garden. Human and horse did what they could to stop the creatures, but it didn't take her long to realize they needed help and she'd bolted for the mansion. She told me leaving the kids is one of the hardest things she's ever done.

I know exactly what she's talking about.

The pancakes go very quickly. Sitting at the table along with Dave and Ray are Julie, Liz, Harley, Roberto, Xi-an, Peter, Amara and Jamie - only one of him. And me. I'm eating, too. The pancake is delicious; I'm starving again. I have a sweatshirt on but my legs are cold. I remembered about my jeans and they're spinning in the dryer as I sit here, stoking the furnace, but they aren't drying fast enough. Maybe if I eat more I'll feel warmer…

"Okay, you pigs, here's your second pancake." Jubilee puts another platter down and takes the old one away. I resist the urge to eat them all. I shudder when I realize that I _could_ eat them all - and want more. I chew on my pancake, making it last as long as possible, adding more syrup until it drowns.

Five of us aren't in the kitchen right now. Kurt is with Angie in the infirmary, 'cause she's still not feeling well. Keisha is with him. She hasn't elaborated on the problem but wants to be there to help. So far, Sam and Dani have chosen not to push her. Angie has a fever and can't tell us anything. Jack and Russell are also in the infirmary. Jack was unconscious when I last saw him, and securely strapped to the table. Russell wouldn't say anything else about him or the demon, other than to provide the demon's name: 'Jax'. He isn't in the best shape to answer lots of questions. His injuries caused some alarm when we left the elevator and understandably so.

Keisha had said: "Not again." To which Russell had chuckled and said: "'Fraid so. But Jack's fine and I'm fine, too, thanks for asking, luv."

The young soul-targeter had pressed her lips together and remained silent, much to the astonishment of some of the kids, who proceeded to fuss over the two injured boys. I have no idea what's going on, but I intend to find out.

Russell says he'll be fine in a few hours. In the meanwhile, he's enduring ice packs and salves and strict orders to rest. Guess he'll be part of the third shift for pancakes with the other four down there.

It figures Mr. Braddock and Dr. McTaggert would turn to Professor Xavier for assistance, figures that the eight new students wouldn't have abilities that would be a walk in the park. They wouldn't have to be here, otherwise. I sigh, and the syrup misses my mouth for a second, dribbling down my chin. I open my eyes. Somehow, the bottle of maple syrup is being held above me. I'm shocked to see _I'm_ holding the bottle and from the looks of how much is left, I've been pouring it down my throat for at least a minute. I tilt the bottle abruptly and some of the golden liquid lands on my empty plate. It's very quiet in here. Batter is sizzling in the pan. I take my napkin and wipe my chin before looking around the table.

I don't blame them for staring. Only Blink is still watching the television as the others in the corner have twisted around to see what's going on. I don't have to look at the counter and stove to know that activity has halted there, too.

"Excuse me," I murmur, standing and placing my napkin carefully on my plate. "I have to check on my jeans." Peter stands but I wave at him. "I'm okay. I'll be back to help with the dishes." I flee the kitchen and don't stop running until I reach the laundry room.

All the machines are quiet. I remove my socks and sneakers, retrieve my jeans and take off my sleeping shorts, deciding if anyone came in, it isn't as if I'm naked: I'm still wearing underwear. I pull my jeans on, even though they're a bit warm, do up the zip and the snap. I pull my sweatshirt down, which reminds me of 'The Picard Maneuver' from Star Trek: Next Generation, and wonder how I'm going to return to the kitchen after what I just did with the syrup. I roll my shorts into a tight ball and push them into one of my front pockets, looking out the window at the still, calm garden. It's dark outside and it's mercifully quiet in here. I put on my socks and shoes.

Maybe I'll just sit in the laundry room for a while and read one of the teen magazines piled on the shelves. I glance at the top cover of one: 'You can have miracle skin in just five days!' Yeah, right. 'Hottest Bachelors! See our Scream Chart!' That sounds gripping. 'Orlando Bloom! Elijah Wood!' another cover declares. 'Learn more about these hot actors!' _Ugh._ Don't make me barf. Xavier's has guys hotter than those two will ever be. I stare out the window and think of them all: Peter, Sam, Mr. Summers, Logan, Kurt, Jack, and Russell. All very different and all appealing in their own way. I'm not drooling over them, but I'm not dead. I can look and appreciate. Some of the younger ones, like Pietro, Harley and Roberto, are cute and will, no doubt, get cuter as they flourish. Much to the delight of the girl contingent.

_I am sixteen, going on seventeen…_

I turn seventeen in November. It occurs to me that if we succeed in crossing through the looking glass, and if we find the X-Men, and if they're alive - I try not to think too hard about that one - we still have to get back to our world, intact.

I might not see my seventeenth birthday. It isn't just super heroes who deal with this feeling. People in emergency services know it, like the fire fighters and police who entered the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, knowing their lives were on the line. The third Fate steps in and snips the thread. We fight the good fight, but the bad guys sometimes win. In this case, we don't even know who the bad guys are yet.

"Kitty?"

"Hey." I acknowledge Kurt's presence with a nod but don't turn around.

"Are you alright?"

"Just having a mortality moment."

"We are all allowed to have those," he says, moving into the room and perching to sit cross-legged on one of the dryers. "We have to remember that nothing is certain. Only God knows what will happen."

_Yeah, you would say that_, I say - in my mind. I know he's pretty religious -Catholic, I think - and that he believes that God is looking out for him, has a reason why he is the way he is, and that's cool. As a Jew, I have a concept of what it's like to be different. Millennia of persecution huddles behind me like a hushed shadow. I try not to dwell on it, but I guess my contemplation of not seeing my next birthday brings it all out. I'm assuming a lot here. I'm assuming we're going to try to access this world through the mirror in Mr. Summers' office. I'm assuming that we aren't gonna call the Avengers or the Fantastic Four to take care of the rescue for us while we sit, safe and secure, and wait. I'm assuming I'll even be one of those who go through, _if_ we go at all, and not left behind to take care of the kids. Someone has to stay behind.

"I want to see seventeen," I say aloud. "But I want to be part of the rescue. It's a risk, but there it is." I look at Kurt. He isn't thrashing me over the head with his beliefs, for which I'm very grateful. He's been good about that, not forcing anyone to listen, not preaching, but if people ask a question, he'll discuss it with them. It's cool.

I glance at him. His gold eyes regard me with understanding. "You're scared."

"Yeah."

He chuckles. "I would be concerned if you weren't scared. But take a deep breath, Kätchen. No decisions have been made. Don't worry about what has yet to happen."

I turn to him then and lean against a dryer, hugging myself. "I just wonder if this is what it feels like, that moment when you know you're going into danger and might not come out." I swallow. "That… that everything that hasn't been done will never get done. Everything from the crossword puzzle you started that morning to the children you'll never have. The stuff you never quite got around to, the guy you should've apologized to when you took the last copy of that DVD you could've waited for and should've let him have." That one suddenly irks me. I sigh. "The e-mails from friends you didn't respond to, the really nice guy at school who you never told how much you like him. The first kiss you never experienced 'cause you were waiting for the right person." I actually don't blush when I say that last bit. I'm being honest with both of us. "Everyday stuff that will be left undone, unsaid." I sigh and look at my shoes. Why am I telling him all this? "You're really easy to talk to, you know that?"

"You are not the first one to mention this, but it's been a while." He smiles.

_Teleporter, not a demon, teleporter, not a demon…_

"How did you know I was in here?"

Kurt taps the tiny headset attached to his right ear. "Sam called me and asked if I could see if you were alright."

"I think I'm just tired, and I wish Dr. Grey would stop… I don't know, popping in and out and making me do and say things I have no control over. Not that I haven't _appreciated_ her help," I amend, just in case. "But it's disorienting. If I'm not officially crazy right now, I will be before this is over."

"The office is still secure, I assume?"

I nod. "The force field pods we set up across the door and broken window should stop them from accessing the rest of the mansion if they come through the mirror again. At the very least, the alarm will sound and… we'll know."

"Good."

"How are the patients?"

"Jack is still unconscious. Russell assures me that this is normal and Keisha won't disagree but really…" He shakes his head. "I am missing something between them. There's an undercurrent of which I am ignorant. Russell's physical injuries are healing rapidly. His spiritual ones? I will not guess." He sighs. "I am worried about Angie, primarily because I don't know what is happening to her and the only one who seems to know for certain is Keisha. She says it isn't her place to tell me. No doubt the Professor knows, but we can't ask him at the moment."

"No, that would be kinda _hard_," I say, frustrated. "What with him and all the X-Men -" I stop; nearly choke.

_Oh, God._

"Kurt?"

"Ja?"

"Not all the X-Men have been taken."

He blinks. "What?"

"Not all the X-Men have been taken. The roster the Übels were working from included Dr. McCoy, who hasn't been around much until recently but he used to live here." My arms fall to my sides. Why didn't I see this before?

Kurt unfolds from the dryer and slides to the floor. "What are you saying, Kitty?"

"That's why the Übels were still searching the mansion. They were looking for one more X-Man."

"But who?"

I look in the window across from me, and focus on her reflection in the glass, pale and incomparable.

"Jean," I say softly. "They were looking for Jean."

**_To Be Continued…_**


End file.
